COTTAGE  ECONOMY; 


CONTAINING 


INFORMATION  RELATIVE  TO  THE  BREWING  OF  BEER,  MAKING  OF  BREAD, 
KEEPING  OF  COWS,  PIGS,  BEES,  EWES,  -GOATS,  POULTRY,  AND  RABBITS, 
AND  RELATIVE  TO  OTHER  MATTERS  DEEMED  USEFUL  IN  THE  CONDUCT- 
ING OF  THE  AFFAIRS  OF  A  LABOURER'S  FAMILY  ;  TO  WHICH  ARE  ADDED, 
INSTRUCTIONS  RELATIVE  TO  THE  SELECTING,  THE  CUTTING  AND  THE 
BLEACHING  OF  THE  PLANTS  OF  ENGLISH  GRASS  AND  GRAIN,  FOR  THB 
PURPOSE  OP  MAKING  HATS  AND,  BONNETS ;  AND  ALSO  INSTRUCTIONS 
FOR  ERECTING  AND  USING  ICE-HOUSES,  AFTER  THE  VIRGINIAN  MANNER. 


TO    WHICH    IS   ADDED 

THE  POOR   MAN'S  FRIEND; 

on, 

A  DEFENCE  OF  THE  RIGHTS  OF  THOSE  WHO  DO  THE  WORK, 
AND  FIGHT  THE  BATTLES. 


BY  WILLIAM  COBBETT. 


NEW  YORK  : 
PUBLISHED  BY  JOHN  DOYLE,  12, 

Sorrw?  $Y  CONNER 
1833. 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress^in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1833- 
by  John  Doyle,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the 
Southern  District  of  New- York. 


CONTENTS. 


No. 
I. — Introduction.    To  the  Labouring  Classes 

of  this  Kingdom — Brewing  Beer,    -        5 
II. — Brewing  Beer,  continued,      -    -    -    -       23 

III.— Making  Bread, 41 

IV. — Making     Bread,     continued — Brewing 

Beer — Keeping  Cows,        -    -    -     -      59 

V. — Keeping    Cows,     continued, — Keeping 

Pigs,     ----------        73 

VI.— Keeping  Pigs,  continued — Salting  Mut- 
ton, and  Beef,      -------      86 

VII. — Bees,   Geese,    Ducks,  Turkeys,  Fowls, 
Pigeons,  Rabbits,  Goats,  and   Ewes, 
Candles  and  Rushes,  Mustard,  Dress 
and    Household    Goods,    and    Fuel, 
Hops,  and  Yeast,    %          -    -    -    -      98 

VIII. — Selecting,  Cutting   and   Bleaching  the 
Plants  of  English  Grass  and  Grain, 
for  the  purpose  of  making  Hats  and 
Bonnets — Constructing     and     using 
Ice-houses,     --------       122 

AoDiTiON.-^Mangel  Wurzel — Cobbett's  Corn,      151 
INDEX,    -------------      158 


COTTAGE  ECONOMY. 

No.  I. 
INTRODUCTION. 

To  THE  LABOURING  CLASSES  OF  THIS  KINGDOM. 

1.  THROUGHOUT  this  little  work,   I  shall  number 
the  Paragraphs,  in  order  to  be  able,  at  some  stages  of 
the  work,  to  refer,  with  the  more  facility,  to  parts  that 
have  gone  before.     The  last  Number  will  contain  an 
Index,  by  the  means  of  which  the  several  matters  may 
be  turned  to  without  loss  of  time  ;  for,  when  economy 
is  the  subject,  time  is  a  thing  which  ought  by  no  means 
to  be  overlooked. 

2.  The  word  Economy ',  like  a  great  many  others, 
has,  in  its  application,  been  very  much  abused.     It  is 
generally  used  as  if  it  meant  parsimony,  stinginess,  or 
niggardliness ;  and,  at  best,  merely  the  refraining  from 
expending  money.  Hence  misers  and  close-fisted  men 
disguise  their  propensity  and  conduct  under  the  name 
of  economy  ;  whereas  the  most  liberal  disposition,  a 
disposition  precisely  the  contrary  of  that  of  the  miser, 
is  perfectly  consistent  with  economy. 

3.  ECONOMY   means    management,    and   nothing 
more ;  and  it  is  generally  applied  to  the  affairs  of  a 
house  and  family,  \vhich  affairs  are  an  object  of  the 
greatest  importance,  whether  as  relating  to  indivi- 
duals or  to  a  nation.    A  nation  is  made  powerful  and 
to  be  honoured  in  the  world,  not  so  much  by  the  num- 
ber of  its  people  as  by  the  ability  and  character  of  that 
people ;  and  the  ability  and  character  of  a  people  de- 
pend, in  a  great  measure,  upon  the  economy  of  the 
several  families,  which,  all  taken  together,  make  up 
the  nation.     There  never  yet  was,  and  never  will  be, 

1* 


<5  INTRODUCTION.  [No, 

a  nation  permanently  great,  consisting,  for  the  greater 
part,  of  wretched  and  miserable  families. 

4.  In  every  view  of  the  matter,  therefore,  it  is  de- 
sirable, that  the  families  of  which  a  nation  consists 
should^  be  happily  off:  and  as  this  depends,  in  a  great 
degree,  upon  the  management  of  their  concerns,  the 
present  work  is  intended  to  convey,  to  the  families  of 
the  labouring  classes  in  particular  such  information 
as  I  think  may  be  useful  with  regard  to  that  manage- 
ment. 

5.  I  lay  it  down  as  a  maxim,  that  for  a  family  to  be 
happy,  they  must  be  well  supplied  withybotZ  and  rai- 
ment. It  is  a  sorry  effort  that  people  make  to  persuade 
others,  or  to  persuade  themselves,  that  they  can  be 
happy  in  a  state  of  want  of  the  necessaries  of  life. 
The  doctrines  which  fanaticism  preaches,  and  which 
teach  men  to  be  content  with  poverty,  have  a  very  per- 
nicious tendency,  and  are  calculated  to  favour  tyrants 
by  giving  them  passive  slaves.   To  live  well,  to  enjoy 
all  things  that  make  life  pleasant,  is  the  right  of  every 
man  who  constantly  uses  his  strength  judiciously  and 
lawfully.    It  is  to  blaspheme  God  to  suppose,  that  he 
created  man  to  be  miserable,  to  hunger,  thirst,  and 
perish  with    cold,  in  the  midst  of  that  abundance 
which  is  the  fruit  of  their  own  labour.  Instead,  there- 
fore, of  applauding  "  happy  poverty,"  which  applause 
is  so  much  the  fashion  of  the  present  day,  I  despise  the 
man  that  is  poor  and  contented;  for,  such  content  is  a 
certain  proof  of  a  base  disposition,  a  disposition  which 
is  the  enemy  of  all  industry,  all  exertion,  all  love  of 
independence. 

6.  Let  it  be  understood,  however,  that,  by  poverty, 
I  mean  real  want,  a  real  insufficiency  of  the  iood  and 
raiment  and  lodging  necessary  to  health  and  decency  ; 
and  not  that  imaginary  poverty,  of  which  some  per- 
sons complain.     The  man  who,  by  his  own  and  his 
family's  labour,  can  provide  a  sufficiency  of  food  and 
raiment,  and  a  comfortable  dwelling-place,  is  not  a 
poor  man.    There  must  be  different  ranks  and  degrees 
in  every  civil  society,  and,  indeed,  so  it  is  even  amongst 
the  savage  tribes.    There  must  be  different  degrees  of 


L]  INTRODUCTION.  7 

wealth;  some  must  have  more  than  others  ;  and  the 
richest  must  be  a  great  deal  richer  than  the  least  rich. 
But  it  is  necessary  to  the  very  existence  of  a  people, 
that  nine  out  of  ten  should  live  wholly  by  the  sweat 
of  their  brow;  and.  is  it  not  degrading  to  human  nature, 
that  all  the  nine-tenths  should  be  called  poor;  and, 
what  is  still  worse,  call  themselves  poor ',  and  be  con- 
tented in  that  degraded  state? 

7.  The  laws,  the  economy,  or  management,  of  a 
state  may  be  such,  as  to  render  it  impossible  for  the 
labourer,  however  skilful  and  industrious,  to  maintain 
his  family  in  health  and  decency ;  and  such  has,  for 
many  years  past,  been  the  management  of  the  affairs 
of  this  once  truly  great  and  happy  land.     A  system 
of  paper-money,  the  effect  of  which  was  to  take  from 
the  labourer  the  half  of  his  earnings,  was  what  no 
industry  and  care  could  make  head  against.   I  do  not 
pretend  that  this  system  was  adopted  by  design.   But, 
no  matter  for  the  cause;  such  was  the  effect. 

8.  Better  times,  however,  are  approaching.     The 
labourer  now  appears  likely  to  obtain  that  hire  of 
which  he  is  worthy ;  and,  therefore,  this  appears  to 
me  to  be  the  time  to  press  upon  him  the  duty  of  using 
his  best  exertions  for  the  rearing  of  his  family  in  a 
manner  that  must  give  him  the  best  security  for  hap- 
piness to  himself,  his  wife  and  children,  and  to  make 
him,  in  all  respects,  what  his  forefathers  were.     The 
people  of  England  have  been  famed,  in  all  ages,  for 
their  good  living;  for  the  abundance  of  their  food 
and  goodness  of  their  attire.     The  old  sayings  about 
English  roast  beef  and  plum-pudding,  and  about  Eng- 
lish hospitality,  had  not  their  foundation  in  nothing. 
And,  in  spite  of  all  refinements  of  sickly  minds,  it  is 
abundant  living  amongst  the  people  at  large,  which 
is  the  great  test  of  good  government,  and  the  surest 
basis  of  national  greatness  and  security. 

9.  If  the  labourer  have  his  fair  wages ;  if  there  be 
no  false  weights  and  measures,  whether  of  money 
or  of  goods,  by  which  he  is  defrauded  ;  if  the  laws  be 
equal  in  their  effect  upon  all  men :  if  he  be  called 
upon  for  no  more  than  his  due  share  of  the  expenses 


8  INTRODUCTION.  [No. 

necessary  to  support  the  government  and  defend  the 
country,  he  has  no  reason  to  complain.  If  the  large- 
ness of  his  family  demand  extraordinary  labour  and 
care,  these  are  due  from  him  to  it.  He  is  the  cause 
of  the  existence  of  that  family ;  and,  therefore,  he  is 
not,  except  in  cases  of  accidental  calamity,  to  throw 
upon  others  the  burden  of  supporting  it.  Besides, 
"little  children  are  as  arrows  in  the  hands  of  the  giant, 
and  blessed  is  the  man  that  hath  his  quiver  full  of 
them/'  That  is  to  say,  children,  if  they  bring  their 
cares,  bring  also  their  pleasures  and  solid  advanta- 
ges. They  become,  very  soon,  so  many  assistants 
and  props  to  the  parents,  who,  when  old  age  comes 
on,  are  amply  repaid  for  all  the  toils  and  all  the  cares 
that  children  have  occasioned  in  their  infancy.  To 
be  without  sure  and  safe  friends  in  the  world  makes 
life  not  worth  having  ;  and  whom  can  we  be  so  sure  of 
as  of  our  children  ?  Brothers  and  sisters  are  a  mutual 
support.  We  see  them,  in  almost  every  case,  grow  up 
into  prosperity,  when  they  act  the  part  that  the  im- 
pulses of  nature  prescribe.  When  cordially  united, 
a  father  and  sons,  or  a  family  of  brothers  and  sisters, 
may,  in  almost  any  state  of  life,  set  what  is  called 
misfortune  at  defiance. 

10.  These    considerations    are    much    more   than 
enough  to  sweeten  the  toils  and  cares  of  parents,  and  to 
make  them  regard  every  additional  child  as  an  addition- 
al blessing.  But,  that  children  may  be  a  blessing  and 
not  a  curse,  care  must  be  taken  of  their  education. 
This  word  has,  of  late  years,  been  so  perverted,  so 
corrupted,  so  abused,  in  its  application,  that  I  am  al- 
most afraid  to  use  it  here.     Yet  I  must  not  suffer  it  to 
be  usurped  by  cant  and  tyranny.     I  must  use  it:  but 
not  without  clearly  saying  what  I  mean. 

11.  Education  means  breeding  up,  bringing  up , 
or  rearing  up  ;   and  nothing  mom     This  includes 
every  thing  with  regard  to  the  mind  as  well  as  the 
body  of  a  child ;  but,  of  late  years,  it  has  been  so  used 
as  to  have  no  sense  applied  to  it  but  that  of  book-learn- 
ing, with  which,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  it  has  nothing 
at  all  to  do.     It  is,  indeed,  proper,  and  it  is  the  duty 


I.]  INTRODUCTION.  9 

of  all  parents,  to  teach,  or  cause  to  be  taught,  their 
children  as  much  as  they  can  of  books,  after,  and  not 
before,  all  the  measures  are  safely  taken  for  enabling 
them  to  get  their  living  by  labour,  or  for  providing 
them  a  living  without  labour,  and  that,  too,  out  of  the 
means  obtained  and  secured  by  the  parents  out  of  their 
own  income.  The  taste  of  the  times  is,  unhappily,  to 
give  to  children  something  of  book-learning',  with  a 
view  of  placing  them  to  live,  in  some  way  or  other, 
upon  the  labour  of  other  people.  Very  seldom,  com- 
paratively speaking,  has  this  succeeded,  even  during 
the  wasteful  public  expenditure  of  the  last  thirty  years ; 
and,  in  the  times  that  are  approaching,  it  cannot,  I 
thank  God,  succeed  at  all.  When  the  project  has 
failed,  what  disappointment,  mortification  and  misery, 
to  both  parent  and  child  !  The  latter  is  spoiled  as  a 
labourer  :  his  book-learning  has  only  made  him  con- 
ceited :  into  some  course  of  desperation  he  falls ;  and 
the  end  is  but  too  often  not  only  wretched  but  ignomi- 
nious. 

12.  Understand  me  clearly  here,  however  ;  for  it  is 
the  duty  of  parents  to  give,  if  they  be  able,  book-learn- 
ing to  their  children,  having  first  taken  care  to  make 
them  capable  of  earning  their  living  by  bodily  labour. 
When  that  object  has  once  been  secured,  the  other 
may,  if  the  ability  remain,  be  attended  to.     But  I  am 
wholly  against  children  wasting  their  time  in  the  idle- 
ness of  what  is  called  education;  and  particularly  in 
schools  over  which  the  parents  have  no  control,  and 
where  nothing  is  taught  but  the  rudiments  of  servility, 
pauperism  and  slavery. 

13.  The  education  that  I  have  in  view  is,  there- 
fore, of  a  very  different  kind.     You  should  bear  con- 
stantly in  mind,  that  nine-tenths  of  us  are,  from  the 
very  nature  and  necessities  of  the  world,  born  to  gain 
our  livelihood  by  the  sweat  of  our  brow.     What  rea- 

••  son  have  we,  then,  to  presume,  that  our  children  are 
not  to  do  the  same  ?  If  they  be,  as  now  and  then 
one  will  be,  endued  with  extraordinary  powers  of  mind, 
those  powers  may  have  an  opportunity  of  developing 
themselves ;  and  if  they  never  have  that  opportunity. 


10  INTRODUCTION.  [No. 

the  harm  is  not  very  great  to  us  or  to  them.  Nor  does  it 
hence  follow  that  the  descendants  of  labourers  are 
always  to  be  labourers.  The  path  upwards  is  steep 
and  long,  to  be  sure.  Industry,  care,  skill,  excellence, 
in  the  present  parent,  lay  the  foundation  of  a  rise, 
under  more  favourable  circumstances,  for  his  children. 
The  children  of  these  take  another  rise;  and,  by-and- 
by,  the  descendants  of  the  present  labourer  become 
gentlemen. 

14.  This  is  the  natural  progress.     It  is  by  attempt- 
ting  to  reach  the  top  at  a  single  leap  that  so  much 
misery  is  produced  in  the  world  ;  and  the  propensity 
to  make  such  attempts  has  been  cherished  and  encou- 
raged by  the  strange  projects  that  we  have  witnessed 
of  late  years  for  making  the  labourers  virtuous  and 
happy  by  giving  them   what    is   called    education. 
The  education  which  I  speak  of  consists  in  bringing 
children  up  to  labour  with  steadiness,  with  care,  and 
with  skill ;  to  show  them  how  to  do  as  many  useful 
things  as  possible ;  to  teach  them  to  do  them  all  in 
the  best  manner ;  to  set  them  an  example  in  industry, 
sobriety,  cleanliness,  and  neatness  ;  to  make  all  these 
habitual  to  them,  so  that  they  never  shall  be  liable  to 
fall  into  the  contrary;  to  let  them  always  see  a  good 
living  proceeding  from  labour,  and  thus  to  remove 
from  them  the  temptation  to  get  at  the  goods  of  others  by 
violent  or  fraudulent  means,  and  to  keep  far  from  their 
minds  all  the  inducements  to  hypocrisy  and  deceit. 

15.  A  nd,  bear  in  mind,  that  if  the  state  of  the  labourer 
has  its  disadvantages  when  compared  with  other  call- 
ings and  conditions  of  life,  it  has  also  its  advantages.  It 
is  free  from  the  torments  of  ambition,  and  from  a  great 
part  of  the  causes  of  ill-health,  for  which  not  all  the 
riches  in  the  world  and  all  the  circumstances  of  high 
rank  are  a  compensation.  The  able  and  prudent  labourer 
is  always  safe,  at  the  least ;  and  that  is  what  few  men 
are  who  are  lifted  above  him.     They  have  losses  and 
crosses  to  fear,  the  very  thought  of  which  never  enters 
his  mind,  if  he  act  well  his  part  towards  himself,  his 
family  and  his  neighbour. 

16.  But,  the  basis  of  good  to  him,  is  steady  and 


1J  INTRODUCTION.  Jl 

skilful  labour.  To  assist  him  in  the  pursuit  of  this 
labour,  and  in  the  turning  of  it  to  the  best  account,  are 
the  principal  objects  of  the  present  little  work.  I  pro- 
pose to  treat  of  brewing  Beer,  making  Bread,  keeping 
Cows  and  Pigs,  rearing  Poultry,  and  of  other  matters ; 
and  to  show,  that,  while,  from  a  very  small  piece  of 
ground  a  large  part  of  the  food  of  a  considerable  fami- 
ly may  be  raised,  the  very  act  of  raising  it  will  be  the 
best  possible  foundation  of  education  of  the  children 
of  the  labourer ;  that  it  will  teach  them  a  great  number 
of  useful  things,  add  greatly  to  their  value  when  they 
go  forth  from  their  father's  home,  make  them  start 
in  life  with  all  possible  advantages,  and  give  them  the 
best  chance  of  leading  happy  lives.  And  is  it  not  much 
more  rational  for  parents  to  be  employed  in  teaching 
their  children  how  to  cultivate  a  garden,  to  feed  and  rear 
animals,  to  make  bread,  beer,  bacon,  butter  and  cheese, 
and  to  be  able  to  do  these  things  for  themselves,  or  for 
others,  than  to  leave  them  to  prowl  about  the  lanes  and 
commons,  or  to  mope  at  the  heels  of  some  crafty,  sleek- 
headed  pretended  saint,  who  while  he  extracts  the 
last  penny  from  their  pockets,  bids  them  be  contented 
with  their  misery,  and  promises  them,  in  exchange 
for  their  pence,  everlasting  glory  in  the  world  to  come  ? 
It  is  upon  the  hungry  and  the  wretched  that  the  fana- 
tic works.  The  dejected  and  forlorn  are  his  prey. 
As  an  ailing  carcass  engenders  vermin,  a  pauperized 
community  engenders  teachers  of  fanaticism,  the  very 
foundation  of  whose  doctrines  is,  that  we  are  to  care 
nothing  about  this  world,  and  that  all  our  labours  and 
exertions  are  in  vain. 

17.  The  man,  who  is  doing  well,  who  is  in  good 
health,  who  has  a  blooming  and  dutiful  and  cheerful 
and  happy  family  about  him,  and  who  passes  his  day 
of  rest  amongst  them,  is  not  to  be  made  to  believe, 
that  he  was  born  to  be  miserable,  and  that  poverty, 
the  natural  and  just  reward  of  laziness,  is  to  secure 
him  a  crown  of  glory.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  recom- 
mend a  disregard  of  even  outward  observances  as  to 
matters  of  religion ;  but,  can  it  be  religion  to  believe 
that  God  hath  made  us  to  be  wretched  and  dejected  ? 


12  INTRODUCTION.  [No. 

Can  it  be  religion  to  regard,  as  marks  of  his  grace, 
the  poverty  and  misery  that  almost  invariably  attend 
pur  neglect  to  use  the  means  of  obtaining  a  competence 
in  worldly  things  ?  Can  it  be  religion  to  regard  as 
blessings  those  things,  those  very  things,  which  God 
expressly  numbers  amongst  his  curses  ?  Poverty 
never  finds  a  place  amongst  the  blessings  promised 
by  God.  His  blessings  are  of  a  directly  opposite  de- 
scription ;  flocks,  herds,  corn,  wine  and  oil ;  a  smiling 
land  ;  a  rejoicing  people  ;  abundance  for  the  body  and 
gladness  of  the  heart :  these  are  the  blessings  which 
God  promises  to  the  industrious,  the  sober,  the  careful, 
and  the  upright.  Let  no  man,  then,  believe  that,  to 
be  poor  and  wretched  is  a  mark  of  God's  favour ;  and 
let  no  man  remain  in  that  state,  if  he,  by  any  honest 
means,  can  rescue  himself  from  it. 

18.  Poverty  leads  to  all  sorts  of  evil  consequences. 
Want,  horrid  want,  is  the  great  parent  of  crime.     To 
have  a  dutiful  family,  the  father's  principle  of  rule 
must  be  love  not  fear.     His  sway  must  be  gentle,  or 
he  will  have  only  an  unwilling  and  short-lived  obedi- 
ence.    But  it  is  given  to  but  few  men  to  be  gentle  and 
good-humoured  amidst  the  various  torments  attendant 
on  pinching  poverty.     A  competence  is,  therefore,  the 
first  thing  to  be  thought  of;  it  is  the  foundation  of  all 
good  in  the  labourer's  dwelling ;  without  it  little  but 
misery  can  be  expected.     "  Health,  peace,  and  compe~ 
tence,"  one  of  the  wisest  of  men  regards  as  the  only 
things  needful  to  man  :  but  the  two  former  are  scarcely 
to  be   had  without  the  latter.     Competence  is  the 
foundation  of  happiness  and  of  exertion.     Beset  with 
wants,  having  a  mind  continually  harassed  with  fears 
of  starvation,  who  can  act  with  energy,   who  can 
calmly  think?     To  provide  a  good  living,  therefore, 
for  himself  and  family,  is  the  very  first  duly  of  every 
man.     "Two  things,"  says  AGUE,  "have  I  asked; 
deny  me  them  not  before  I  die :  remove  far  from  me 
vanity  and  lies  ;  give  me  neither  poverty  nor  riches ; 
feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me :  lest  I  be  full 
and  deny  thee  ;  or  lest  I  be  poor  and  steal." 

19.  A  good  living  therefore,  a  competence,  is  the 


L]  BREWING.  13 

first  thing  to  be  desired  and  to  be  sought  after ;  and,  if 
this  little  work  should  have  the  effect  of  aiding  only 
a  small  portion  of  the  Labouring  Classes  in  securing 
that  competence,  it  will  afford  great  gratification  to 
their  friend  WM.  COBBETT. 

Kensington,  19th  July,  1821. 


BREWING  BEER. 

20.  BEFORE  I  proceed  to  give  any  directions  about 
brewing,  let  me  mention  some  of  the  inducements  to 
do  the  thing.     In  former  times,  to  set  about  to  show 
to-  Englishmen  that  it  was  good  for  them  to  brew  beer 
in  their  houses  would  have  been  as  impertinent  as 
gravely  to  insist,  that  they  ought  to  endeavour  not  to 
lose  their  breath ;  for,  in  those  times,  (only  forty  years 
ago,)  to  have  a  house  and  not  to  brew  was  a  rare 
thing  indeed.     Mr.  ELLMAN,  an  pld^man  and  a  large 
fanner,  in  Sussex,  has  recently  given  in  evidence,  be- 
fore a  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons,  this  fact ; 
that,  forty  years  ago,  there  was  not  a  labourer  in  his 
parish  that  did  not  brew  his -own  beer  ;  and  that  now 
there  is  not  one  that  does  it,  except  by  chance  the 
malt  be  given  him.     The  causes  of  this  change  have 
been  the  lowering  of  the  wages  of  labour,  compared 
with  the  price  of  provisions,  by  the  means  of  the  paper- 
money  ;  the  enormous  tax  upon  the  barley  when  made 
into  malt ;  and  the  increased  lax  upon  hops.     These 
have  quite  changed  the  customs  of  the  English  people 
as  to  their  drink.     They  still  drink  beer,  but,  in  gene- 
ral, it  is  of  the  brewing  of  common  brewers,  and  in 
public-houses,  of  which  the  common  brewers  have  be- 
come the  owners,  and  have  thus,  by  the  aid  of  paper- 
money,  obtained  a  monopoly  in  the  supplying  of  the 
great  body  of  the  people  with  one  of  those  things 
which,  to  the  hard-working  man,  is  almost  a  necessary 
of  life. 

21.  These  things  will  be  altered.     They  must  be 
altered.     The  nation  must  be  sunk  into  nothingness, 

2 


14  BREWING.  [No. 

or  a  new  system  must  be  adopted ;  and  the  nation  will 
not  sink  into  nothingness.  The  malt  now  pays  a  tax 
of  4s.  6d*  a  bushel,  and  the  barley  costs  only  3s. 
This  brings  the  bushel  of  malt  to  Ss.  including  the 
maltster's  charge  for  malting.  If  the  tax  were  taken 
off  the  malt,  malt  would  be  sold,  at  the  present  price 
of  barley,  for  about  3s.  3d.  a  bushel ;  because  a  bushel 
of  barley  makes  more  than  a  bushel  of  malt,  and  the 
tax,  besides  its  amount,  causes  great  expenses  of  va- 
rious sorts  to  the  maltster.  The  hops  pay  a  tax  of 
2cZ.f  a  pound ;  and  a  bushel  of  malt  requires,  in  ge- 
neral, a  pound  of  hops  ;  if  these  two  taxes  were  taken 
off,  therefore,  the  consumption  of  barley  and  of  hops 
would  be  exceedingly  increased  ;  for  double  the  pre- 
sent quantity  would  be  demanded,  and  the  land  is 
always  ready  to  send  it  forth. 

22.  It  appears  impossible  that  the  landlords  should 
much  longer  submit  to  these  intolerable  burdens  on 
their  estates.     In  short,  they  must  get  off  the  malt  tax, 
or  lose  those  estates.     They  must  do  a  great  deal 
more,  indeed  ;  but  that  they  must  do  at  any  rate.    The 
paper-money  is  fast  losing  its  destructive  power ;  and 
things  are,  with  regard  to  the  labourers,  coming  back 
to  what  they  were  forty  years  ago,  and  therefore  we 
may  prepare  for  the  making  of  beer  in  our  own  houses, 
and  take  leave  of  the  poisonous  stuff  served  out  to  us 
by  common  brewers.     We  may  begin  immediately ; 
for,  even  at  present  prices,  home-brewed  beer  is  the 
cheapest  drink  that  a  family  can  use,  except  milk,  and 
milk  can  be  applicable  only  in  certain  cases. 

23.  The  drink  which  has  come  to  supply  the  place 
of  beer  has,  in  general,  been  tea.     It  is  notorious  that 
tea  has  no    useful  strength  in  it;  that  it  contains 
nothing  nutritious ;  that  it,  besides  being  good  for 
nothing,  has  badness  in  it,  because  it  is  well  known 
to  produce  want  of  sleep  in  many  cases,  and  in  all 
cases,  to  shake  and  weaken  the  nerves.   It  is,  in  fact, 
a  weaker  kind  of  laudanum,  which  enlivens  for  the 
moment  and  deadens  afterwards.    At  any  rate  it  com- 

*  4s.  6d.  English,  equal  to  one  dollar. 
t  2d,  English,  equal  to  four  cents,  nearly. 


I.]  BREWING.  15 

municates  no  strength  to  the  body ;  it  does  not,  in  any 
degree,  assist  in  affording  what  labour  demands.  It 
is,  then,  of  no  use.  And,  now,  as  to  its  cost,  compared 
with  that  of  beer.  I  shall  make  my  comparison  ap- 
plicable to  a  year,  or  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days. 
I  shall  suppose  the  tea  to  be  only  five  shillings  the 
pound ;  the  sugar  only  sevenpence  ;  the  milk  only  two- 
pence a  quart.  The  prices  are  at  the  very  lowest.  I 
shall  suppose  a  tea-pot  to  cost  a  shilling,  six  cups  and 
saucers  two  shillings  and  sixpence,  and  six  pewter 
spoons  eighteen-pence.  How  to  estimate  the  firing 
I  hardly  know ;  but  certainly  there  must  be  in  the 
course  of  the  year,  two  hundred  fires  made  that  would 
not  be  made,  were  it  not  for  tea  drinking.  Then 
conies  the  great  article  of  all,  the  time  employed  in 
this  tea-making  aifair.  It  is  impossible  to  make  a  fire, 
boil  water,  make  the  tea,  drink  it,  wash  up  the  things, 
sweep  up  the  fire-place,  and  put  all  to  rights  again,  in 
a  less  space  of  time,  upon  an  average,  than  two  hc/urs. 
However,  let  us  allow  one  hour;  and  here  we  have  a 
woman  occupied  no  less  than  three  hundred  and  sixty- 
five  hours  in  the  year,  or  thirty  whole  days,  at  twelve 
hours  in  the  day ;  that  is  to  say,  one  month  out  of  the 
twelve  in  the  year,  besides  the  waste  of  the  man's  time 
in  hanging  about  waiting  for  the  tea  !  Needs  there 
any  thing  more  to  make  us  cease  to  wonder  at  seeing 
labourers'  children  with  dirty  linen  and  holes  in  the 
heels  of  their  stockings  ?  Observe,  top,  that  the  time 
thus  spent  is,  one  half  of  it,  the  best  time  of  the  day. 
It  is  the  top  of  the  morning,  which,  in  every  calling 
of  life,  contains  an  hour  worth  two  or  three  hours  of 
the  afternoon.  By  the  time  that  the  clattering  tea 
tackle  is  out  of  the  way,  the  morning  is  spoiled ;  its 
prime  is  gone ;  and  any  work  that  is  to  be  done  after- 
wards lags  heavily  aloii£.  If  the  mother  have  to  go 
out  to  work,  the  tea  affair  must  all  first  be  over.  She 
comes  into  the  field,  in  summer  time,  when  the  sun 
has  gone  a  third  part  of  his  course.  She  has  the  heat 
of  the  day  to  encounter,  instead  of  having  her  work 
done  and  being  ready  to  return  home  at  any  early 
hour.  Yet  early  she  must  go,  too :  for,  there  is  the 


16  BREWING.  [NO. 

fire  again  to  be  made,  the  clattering  tea-tackle  again 
to  come  forward ;  and  even  in  the  longest  day  she 
must  have  candle  light,  which  never  ought  to  be  seen 
in  a  cottage  (except  in  case  of  illness)  from  March  to 
September. 

24.  Now,  then,  let  us  take  the  bare  cost  of  the  use 
of  tea.    I  suppose  a  pound  of  tea  to  last  twenty  days  ; 
which  is  not  nearly  half  an  ounce  every  morning  and 
evening.    I  allow  for  each  mess  half  a  pint  of  milk. 
And  I  allow  three  pounds  of  the  red  dirty  sugar  to 
each  pound  of  tea.     The  account  of   expenditure 
would  then  stand  very  high ;  but  to  these  must  be 
added  the  amount  of  the  tea  tackle,  one  set  of  which 
will,  upon  an  average,  be  demolished  every  year. 
To  these  outgoings  must  be  added  the  cost  of  beer 
at  the  public -house ;  for  some  the  man  will  have, 
after  all,  and  the  woman  too,  unless  they  be  upon 
the  point  of  actual  starvation.     Two  pots  a  week  is 
as  little  as  will  serve  in  this  way ;  and  here  is  a  dead 
loss  of  ninepence  a  week,  seeing  that  two  pots  of 
beer,  full  as  strong,  and  a  great  deal  better,  can  be 
brewed  at  home  for  threepence.    The  account  of  the 
year's  tea  drinking  will  then  stand  thus  : 

L.  s.  d. 

'   18Ib.  of  tea                .        .        .        4  10  0 

541b.  of  sugar             .         .        .         1  11  6 

365  pints  of  milk       .         .         .         1  10  0 
Tea  tackle                  .         .         .050 

200  fires                      .         ...         0  16  8 

30  days'  work             .         .         .         0  15  0 

Loss  by  going  to  public-house            1  19  0 

L.ll      7    2* 

25.  I  have  here  estimated  every  thing  at  its  very 
lowest.     The  entertainment  which  I  have  here  pro- 
vided is  as  poor,  as  mean,  as  miserable  as  any  thing 
short  of  starvation  can  set  forth  ;  and  yet  the  wretch- 
ed thing  amounts  to  a  good  third  part  of  a  good  and 
able  labourer's  wages  !    For  this  money,  he  and  his 

*  The  above  items  may  be  converted  into  United  States'  money  by 
reckoning  4s.  6d.  to  the  dollar :  Thus  As  4*.  6d. ;  1  dollar: ;  III.  7s,  2d.  J 
50  dollars  48  cents. 


I.]  BREWING.  17 

family  may  drink  good  and  wholesome  beer ;  in  a 
short  time,  out  of  the  mere  savings  from  this  waste, 
may  drink  it  out  of  silver  cups  and  tankards.  In  a 
labourer's  family,  wholesome  beer,  that  has  a  little 
life  in  it,  is  all  that  is  wanted  in  general.  Little 
children,  that  do  not  work,  should  not  have  beer. 
Broth,  porridge,  or  something  in  that  way,  is  the 
thing  for  them.  Hdwever,  I  shall  suppose,  in  order 
to  make  my  comparison  as  little  complicated  as  pos- 
sible, that  he  brews  nothing  but  beer  as  strong  as 
the  generality  of  beer  to  be  had  at  the  public-house, 
and  divested  of  the  poisonous  drugs  which  that  beer 
but  too  often  contains ;  and  I  shall  further  suppose 
that  he  uses  in  his  family  two  quarts  of  this  beer 
every  day  from  the  first  of  October  to  the  last  day  of 
March  inclusive  :  three  quarts  a  day  during  the 
months  of  April  and  May  ;  four  quarts  a  day  during 
the  months  of  June  and  September ;  and  five  quarts 
a  day  during  the  months  of  July  and  August ;  and 
if  this  be  not  enough,  it  must  be  a  family  of  drunk- 
ards. Here  are  1097  quarts,  or  274  gallons.  Now, 
a  bushel  of  malt  will  make  eighteen  gallons  of  bet- 
ter beer  than  that  which  is  sold  at  the  public-houses. 
And  this  is  precisely  a  gallon  for  the  price  of  a  quart. 
People  should  bear  in  mind,  that  the  beer  bought  at 
the  public-house  is  loaded  with  a  beer  tax,  with  the 
tax  on  the  public-house  keeper,  in  the  shape  of 
license,  with  all  the  taxes  and  expenses  of  the  brew- 
er, with  all  the  taxes,  rent,  and  other  expenses  of  the 
publican,  and  with  all  the  profits  of  both  brewer  and 
publican ;  so  that  when  a  man  swallows  a  pot  of 
beer  at  a  public-house,  he  has  all  these  expenses  to 
help  to  defray,  besides  the  mere  tax  on  the  malt  and 
on  the  hops. 

26.  Weil,  then,  to  brew  this  ample  supply  of  good 
beer  for  a  labourer's  family,  these  274  gallons,  re- 
quires fifteen  bushels  of  malt  and  (for  let  us  do  the 
thing  well)  fifteen  pounds  of  hops.  The  malt  is  now 
eight  shillings  a  bushel,  and  very  good  hops  may  be 
bought  for  less  than  a  shilling  a  pound.  The  grains 
and  yeast  will  amply  pay  for  the  labour  and  fuel 
2* 


18  BREWING.  [NO. 

employed  in  the  brewing  ;  seeing  that  there  will  be 
pigs  to  eat  the  grains,  and  bread  to  be  baked  with 
the  yeast.  The  account  will  then  stand  thus  : 

L.      s.    d. 

15  bushels  of  malt  .  .  .  600 
15  pounds  of  hops  .  .  .  0  15  0 
Wear  of  utensils  .  .  .  0  10  0 


£.7      5    0 

27.  Here,  then,  is  the  sum  of  four  pounds  two  shil- 
lings and  twopence  saved  every  year.     The  utensils 
for  brewing  are,  a  brass  kettle,  a  mashing  tub,  cool- 
ers, (for  which  washing   tubs  may  serve,)    a  half 
hogsnead,  with  one  end  taken  out,   for  a  tun  tub, 
about  four  nine-gallon  casks,  and  a  couple  of  eigh- 
teen-gallon  casks.      This   is   an  ample   supply   of 
utensils,  each  of  which  will  last,  with  proper  care, 
a  good  long  lifetime  or  two,  and  the  whole  of  which, 
even  if  purchased  new  from  the  shop,  will  only  ex- 
ceed by  a  few  shillings,  if  they  exceed  at  all,  the 
amount  of  the  saving,  arising  the  very  first  year^ 
from  quitting;  the  troublesome  and  pernicious  prac- 
tice of  drinking  tea.     The  saving  of  each  succeed- 
ing year  would,  if  you  chose  it,  purchase  a  silver 
mug  to  hold  half  a  pint  at  least.     However,  the  sa- 
ving would  naturally  be  applied  to  purposes  more 
conducive   to   the   well-being  and   happiness  of  a 
family. 

28.  It  is  not,  however,  the  mere  saving  to  which 
I  look.     This  is,  indeed,  a  matter  of  great  import- 
ance, whether  we  look  at  the  amount  itself,  or  at 
the  ultimate  consequences  of  a  judicious  application 
of  it ;  for  four  pounds  make  a  great  hole  in  a  man's 
wages  for  the  year;  and  when  we  consider  all  the 
advantages  that  would  arise  to  a  family  of  children 
from  having  these  four  pounds,  now  so  miserably 
wasted,  laid  out  upon  their  backs,  in  the  shape  of  a  de- 
cent dress,  it  is  impossible  to  look  at  this  waste  with- 
out  feelings  of  sorrow  not  wholly  unmixed  with 
those  of  a  harsher  description. 

•  To  convert  these  sums  into  United  States'  money,  see  page  16. 


I.]  BREWING.  19 

29.  But,  I  look  upon  the  thing  in  a  still  more  seri- 
ous light.     I  view  the  tea  drinking  as  a  destroyer  of 
health,  an  en  feebler  of  the  frame,  an  engenderer  of 
effeminacy  and  laziness,  a  debaucher  of  youth,  and 
a  maker  of  misery  for  old  age.     In  the  fifteen  bushels 
of  malt  there  are  570  pounds  weight  of  sweet ;  that 
is  to  say,  of  nutricious  matter,  unmixed  with  any 
thing  injurious  to  health.     In  the  730  tea  messes  of 
the  year  there  are  54  pounds  of  sweet  in  the  sugar, 
and  about  30  pounds  of  matter  equal  to  sugar  in  the 
milk.     Here  are  84  pounds  instead  of  570,  and  even 
the  good  effect  of  these  84  pounds  is  more  than  over- 
balanced by  the  corrosive,  gnawing  and  poisonous 
powers  of  the  tea. 

30.  It  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  deny  the  truth 
of  this  statement.     Put  it  to  the  test  with  a  lean 
hog :  give  him  the  fifteen  bushels  of  malt,  and  he 
will  repay  you  in  ten  score  of  bacon  or  thereabouts. 
But  give  hirh  the  730  tea  messes,  or  rather  begin  to 
give  them  to  him,  and  give  him  nothing  else,  and  he 
is  dead  with  hunger,  and  bequeaths  you  his  skeleton, 
at  the  end  of  about  seven  days.     It  is  impossible  to 
doubt  in  such  a  case.     The  tea  drinking  has  done  a 
great  deal  in  bringing  this  nation  into  the  state  of 
misery  in  which  it  now  is ;  and  the  tea  drinking, 
which  is   carried   on  by  "  dribs"  and   "  drabs  ;"  by 
pence  and  farthings  going  out  at  a  time  ;  this,  mise- 
rable practice  has  been  gradually  introduced  by  the 
growing  weight  of  the  taxes  on  malt  and  on  hops, 
and  by  the  everlasting  penury  amongst  the  labourers, 
occasioned  by  the  paper-money. 

31.  We  see  better  prospects  however,  and  there- 
fore let  us  now  rouse  ourselves,  and  shake  from  us 
the  degrading  curse,  the  effects  of  which  have  been 
much  more  extensive  and  infinitely  more  mischiev- 
ous than  men  in  general  seem  to  imagine. 

32.  It  must  be  evident  to  every  one,  that  the  prac- 
tice of  tea  drinking  must  render  the  frame  feeble  and 
unfit  to  encounter  hard  labour  or  severe  weather, 
while,  as  I  have  shown,  it  deducts  from  the  means 
of  replenishing  the  belly  and  covering  the  back. 


20  BREWING,  [No. 

Hence  succeeds  a  softness,  an  effeminacy,  a  seeking 
for  the  fire-side,  a  lurking  in  the  bed,  and,  in  short, 
all  the  characteristics  of  idleness,  for  which,  in  this 
case,  real  want  of  strength  furnishes  an  apology. 
The- tea  drinking  fills  the  public-house,  makes  the 
frequenting  of  it  habitual,  corrupts  boys  as  soon  as 
they  are  able  to  move  from  home,  and  does  little  less 
for  the  girls,  to  whom  the  gossip  of  the  tea-table  is 
no  bad  preparatory  school  for  the  brothel.  At  the 
very  least,- it  teaches  them  idleness.  The  everlast- 
ing dawdling  about  with  the  slops  of  the  tea  tackle, 
gives  them  a  relish  for  nothing  that  requires  strength 
and  activity.  When  they  go  from  home,  they  know 
how  to  do  nothing  that  is  useful.  To  brew,  to  bake, 
to  make  butter,  to  milk,  to  rear  poultry  ;  to  do  any 
earthly  thing  of  use  they  are  wholly  unqualified. 
To  shut  poor  young  creatures  up  in  manufactories 
is  bad  enough  ;  but  there,  at  any  rate,  they  do  some- 
thing that  is  useful ;  whereas,  the  girl  that  has  been 
brought  up  merely  to  boil  the  tea-kettle,  and  to  assist 
in  the  gossip  inseparable  from  the  practice,  is  a  mere 
consumer  of  food,  a  pest  to  her  employer,  and  a 
curse  to  her  husband,  if  any  man  be  so  unfortunate 
as  to  fix  his  affections  upon  her. 

33.  But  is  it  in  the  power  of  any  man,  any  good 
labourer,  who  has  attained  the  age  of  fifty,  to  look 
back  upon  the  last  thirty  years  of  his  life,  without 
cursing  the  day  in  which  tea  was  introduced  into 
England?  Where  is  there  such  a  man,  who  can- 
not trace  to  this  cause  a  very  considerable  part  of  all 
the  mortifications  and  sufferings  of  his  life?  When 
was  he  ever  too  late  at  his  labour  ;  when  did  he  ever 
meat  with  a  frown,  with  a  turning  off,  and  pauper- 
ism on  that  account,  without  being  able  to  trace  it  to 
the  tea-kettle  ?  When  reproached  with  lagging  in 
the  morning,  the  poor  wretch  tells  you  that  he  will 
make  up  for  it  by  working  during  his  breakfast 
time !  I  have  heard  this  a  hundred  and  a  hundred 
times  over.  He  was  up  time  enough ;  but  the  tea- 
kettle kept  him  lolling  and  lounging  at  home  ;  and 
now,  instead  of  sitting  down  to  a  breakfast  upon 


I.]  BREWING.  21 

bread,  bacon,  and  beer,  which  is  to  carry  him  on  to 
the  hour  of  dinner,  he  has  to  force  his  limbs  along 
under  the  sweat  of  feebleness,  and  at  dinner  time 
to  swallow  his  dry  bread,  or  slake  his  half-feverish 
thirst  at  the  pump  or  the  brook.  To  the  wretched 
tea-kettle  he  has  to  return  at  night,  with  legs  hardly 
sufficient  to  maintain  him;  and  thus  he  makes  his 
miserable  progress  towards  that  death,  which  he  finds 
ten  or  fifteen  years  sooner  than  he  would  have  found 
it  had  he  made  his  wife  brew  beer  instead  of  making 
tea.  If  he  now  and  then  gladdens  his  heart  with  the 
drugs  of  the  public  house,  some  quarrel,  some  acci- 
dent, some  illness,  is  the  probable  consequence;  to  the 
affray  abroad  succeeds  an  affray  at  home ;  the  mischiev- 
ous example  reaches  the  children,  corrupts  them  or 
scatters  them,  and  misery  for  life  is  the  consequence. 

34.  I  should  now  proceed  to  the  details  of  brew- 
ing; but  these,  though  they  will  not  occupy  a  large 
space,  must  be  put  off  to  the  second  number.     The 
custom   of  brewing   at   home   has   so   long  ceased 
amongst   labourers,  and,   in  many  cases,  amongst 
tradesmen,  that  it  was  necessary  for  me  fully  to  state 
my  reasons  for  wishing  to  see  the  custom  revived. 
I  shall,  in  my  next,  clearly  explain  how  the  operation 
is  performed ;  and  it  will  be  found  to  be  so  easy  a 
thing,  that  I  am  not  without  hope,  that  many  trades- 
men,  who  now  spend  their  evenings  at  the  public 
house,  amidst  tobacco  smoke  and  empty  noise,  may 
be  induced,  by  the  finding  of  better  drink  at  home, 
at  a  quarter  part  of  the  price,  to  perceive  that  home 
is  by  far  the  pleasantest  place  wherein  to  pass  their 
hours  of  relaxation. 

35.  My  work  is  intended  chiefly  for  the  benefit  of 
cottagers,  who  must,  of  course,  have  some  land;  for, 
I  purpose  to  show,  that  a  large  part  of  the  food  of  even 
a  large  family  may  be  raised,  without  any  diminution 
of  the  labourer's  earnings  abroad,  from  forty  roji,  or  a 
quarter  of  an  acre,  of  ground ;  l)ut  at  the  same  time, 
what  I  have  to  say  will  be  applicable  to  larger  estab- 
lishments, in  all  the  branches  of  domestic  economy  : 
and  especially  to  that  of  providing  a  family  with  beer. 


22  BREWING.  [No. 

36.  The  kind  of  beer,  for  a  labourer's  family,  that 
is  to  say,  the  degree  of  strength,  must  depend  on  cir- 
cumstances ;  on  the  numerousness  of  the  family  ;  on 
the  season  of  the  year,  and  various  other  things.  But, 
generally  speaking,  beer  half  the  strength  of 'that  men- 
tioned in  paragraph  25  will  be  quite  strong  enough ; 
for  that  is,  at  least,  one-third  stronger  than  the  farm- 
house "  small  beer,"  which,  however,  as  long  experi- 
ence has  proved,  is  best  suited  to  the  purpose.     A  ju- 
dicious labourer  would  probably  always  have  some 
ale  in  his  house,  and  have  small  beer  for  the  general 
drink.     There  is  no  reason  why  he  should  not  keep 
Christmas  as  well  as  the  farmer ;  and  when  he  is 
mowing,  reaping,  or  is  at  any  other  hard  work,  a 
quart,  or  three  pints,  of  really  good  fat  ale  a-day  is 
by  no  means  too  much.  However,  circumstances  vary 
so  much  with  different  labourers,  that  as  to  the  sort  of 
beer,  and  the  number  of  brewings,  and  the  times  of 
brewing,  no  general  rule  can  be  laid  down. 

37.  Before  I  proceed  to  explain  the  uses  of  the  se- 
veral brewing  utensils,  I  must  speak  of  the  quality  of 
the  materials  of  which  beer  is  made  ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  malt,  hops,  and  water.     Malt  varies  very  much 
in  quality,  as,  indeed,  it  must,  with  the  quality  of  the 
barley.     When  good,  it  is  full  of  flour,  and  in  biting 
a  grain  asunder,  you  find  it  bite  easily,  and  see  the 
shell  thin  and  filled  up-well  with  flour.  If, it  bite  hard 
and  steely,  the  malt  is  bad.     There  is  pale  malt  and 
brown  malt ;    but  the  difference    in  the  two  arises 
merely  from  the  different  degrees  of  heat  employed 
in  the  drying.     The  main  thing  to  attend  to  is,  the 
quantity  of  flour.     If  the  barley  was  bad ;  thin,  or 
steely,  whether  from  unripeness  or  blight,  or  any  other 
cause,  it  will  not  malt  so  well ;   that  is  to  say,  it  will 
not  send  out  its  roots  in  due  time;  and  a  part  of  it 
will  still  be  barley.  Then,  the  world  is  wicked  enough 
to  think,  and  even  to  say,  that  there  are  maltsters  who, 
when  they  send  you  a  bushel  of  malt,  put  a  Little  bar- 
ley amongst  it,  the  malt  being  taxed  and  the  barley 
not  I    Let  us  hope  that  this  is  seldom  the  case  ;  yet, 
when  we  do  know  that  this  terrible  system  of  taxation 


II.]  BREWING.  23 

induces  the  beer-selling  gentry  to  supply  their  custom- 
ers with  stuff  little  better  than  poison,  it  is  not  very 
uncharitable  to  suppose  it  possible  for  some  maltsters 
to  yield  to  the  temptations  of  the  devil  so  far  as  to 
play  the  trick  above  mentioned.  To  detect  this  trick, 
and  to  discover  what  portion  of  the  barley  is  in  an 
unmalted  state,  take  a  handful  of  the  unground  malt, 
and  put  it  into  a  bowl  of  cold  water.  Mix  it  about 
with  the  water  a  little  ;  that  is,  let  every  grain  be  just 
wet  all  over  ;  and  whatever  part  of  them  sink  are  not 

food.  If  you  have  your  malt  ground,  there  is. not,  as 
know  of,-  any  means  of  detection.  Therefore,  if  your 
brewing  be  considerable  in  amount,  grind  your  own 
malt,  the  means  of  doing  which  is  very  easy,  and  nei- 
ther expensive  nor  troublesome,  as  will  appear,  when 
I  come  to  speak  o£  flour.  If  the  barley  be  well  malted, 
there  is  still  a  variety  nrthe  quality  of  the  malt;  that 
is  to  say,  a  bushel  of  malt  from  fine,  plump,  heavy 
barley,  will  be  better  than  the  same  quantity  from  thin 
and  light  barley.  In  this  case,  as  in  the  case  of  wheat, 
the  weight  is  the  criterion  of  the  quality.  Only  bear 
in  mind,  that  as  a  bushel  of  wheat,  weighing  sixty- 
two  pounds,  is  better  worth  six  shillings,  than  a  bushel 
weighing  fifty-two  is  worth  four  shillings,  so  a  bushel 
of  malt  weighing  forty-five  pounds  is  better  worth 
nine  shillings,  than  a  bushel  weighing  thirty-five  is 
worth  six  shillings.  In  malt,  therefore,  as  in  every 
thing  else,  the  word  cheap  is  a  deception,  unless  the 
quality  be  taken  into  view.  But,  bear  in  mind,  that 
in  the  case  of  unmalted  barley,  mixed  with  the  malt, 
the  weight  can  be  no  rule  ;  for  barley  is  heavier  than 
malt. 


No.  II. 

BREWING  BEER — (continued.) 

38.  As  to  using  barley  in  the  making  of  beer,  I  have 
given  it  a  full  and  fair  trial  twice  over,  and  I  would 
recommend  it  to  neither  rich  nor  poor.  The  barley 
produces  strength,  though  nothing  like  the  malt ;  but 


24  BREWING.  [NO. 

the  beer  is  flat,  even  though  you  use  half  malt  and 
half  barley ;  and  flat  beer  lies  heavy  on  the  stomach, 
and  of  course,  besides  the  bad  taste,  is  unwholesome. 
To.pay  4s.  Qd.  tax  upon  every  bushel  of  our  own  bar- 
ley, turned  into  malt,  when  the  barley  itself  is  not 
worth  3s.  a  bushel,  is  a  horrid  thing ;  but,  as  long  as 
the  owners  of  the  land  shall  be  so  dastardly  as  to  suf- 
fer themselves  to  be  thus  deprived  of  the  use  of  their 
estates  to  favour  the  slave-drivers  and  plunderers  of 
the  East  and  West  Indies,  we  must  submit  to  the 
thing,  incomprehensible  to  foreigners,  and  even  to  our- 
selves, as  the -submission  may  be.  \ 

39.  With  regard  to  hops,  the  quality  is  very  various. 
At  times  when  some  sell  for  5s.  a  pound,  others  sell 
for  sixpence.  Provided  the  purchaser  understand  the 
article,  the  quality  is,  of  course,  in  proportion  to  thp 
price.  There  are  two  things  to  be  considered  in  hops : 
the  power  of  preserving  beer,  and  that  of  giving  it  a 
pleasant  flavour.  Hops  may  be  strong,  and  yet  not 
good.  They  should  be  bright,  have.no  leaves  orbits 
of  branches  amongst  them.  The  hop  is  the  husk,  or 
seed-^pod,  of  the  hop-vine,  as  the  cone  is  that  of  the 
fir-tree ;  and  the  seeds  themselves  are  deposited,  like 
those  of  the  fir,  round  a  little  soft  stalk,  enveloped  by 
the  several  folds  of  this  pod,  or  cone.  If,  in  the  gath- 
ering, leaves  of  the  vine  or  bits  of  the  branches  are 
mixed  with  the  hops,  these  not  only  help  to  make  up 
the  weight,  but  they  give  a  bad  taste  to  the  beer ; 
and  indeed,  if  they  abound  much,  they  spoil  the  beer. 
Great  attention  is  therefore  necessary  in  this  respect 
There  are,  too,  numerous  sorts  of  hops,  varying  in 
size,  form,  and  quality,  quite  as  much  as  apples.  How- 
ever, when  they  are  in  a  state  to  be  used  in  brewing, 
the  marks  of  goodness  are  an  absence  of  brown  colour, 
(for  that  indicates  perished  hops ;)  a  colour  between 
green  and  yellow  ;  a  great  quantity  of  the  yellow  fa- 
rina ;  seeds  not  too  large  nor  too  hard ;  a  clammy 
feel  when  rubbed  between  the  fingers ;  and  a  lively, 
pleasant  smell.  As  to  the  age  of  hops,  they  retain  for 
twenty  years,  probably,  their  power  of  preserving 
beer  ;  but  not  of  giving  it  a  pleasant  flavour..  I  have 


II.]  BREWING.  25 

used  them  at  ten  years  old,  and  should  have  no  fear  of 
using  them  at  twenty.  They  lose  none  of  their  bit- 
terness ;  none  of  their  power  of  preserving  beer  ;  but 
they  lose  the  other  quality  ;  and  therefore,  in  the  mak- 
ing of  fine  ale,  or  beer,  new  hops  are  to  be  preferred.. 
As  to  the  quantity  of  hops,  it  is  clear,  from  what  has 
been  said,  that  that  must,  in  some  degree  depend  upon 
their  quality  ;  but,  supposing  them  to  be  good  in  qual- 
ity, a  pound  of  hops  to  a  bushel  of  malt  is  about  the 
quantity.  A  good  deal,  however,  depends  upon  the 
length  of  time  that  the  beer  is  intended  to  be  kept,  and 
upon  the  season  of  the  year  in  which  it  is  brewed. 
Beer  intended  to  be  kept  a  long  while  should  have  the 
full  pound,  also  beer  brewed  in  warmer  weather, 
though  for  present  use  :  half  the  quantity  may  do  un- 
der an  opposite  state  of  circumstances. 

40.  The  water  should  be  soft  by  all  means.     That 
of  brooks,  or  rivers,  is  best.     That  of  a  pond,  fed  by 
a  rivulet,  or  spring,  will  do  very  well.     Rain-water , 
if  just  fallen,  may  do ;  but  stale  rain-water,  or  stag- 
nant pond- water,  makes  the  beer  flat  and  difficult  to 
keep ;  and  hard  water,  from  wells,  is  very  bad ;  it  does 
not  get  the  sweetness  out  of  the  malt,  nor  the  bitter- 
ness out  of  the  hops,  like  soft  water ;  and  the  wort  of 
it  does  not  ferment  well,  which  is  a  certain  proof  of 
its  unfitness  for  the  purpose. 

41.  There  are  two  descriptions  of  persons  whom  I 
am  desirous  to  see  brewing  their  own  beer ;  namely, 
tradesmen,  and  labourers  and  journeymen.     There 
must,  therefore,  be  two  distinct  scales  treated  of.    In 
the  former  editions  of  this  work,  I  spoke  of  a  machine 
for  brewing,  and  stated  the  advantages  of  using  it  in  a 
family  of  any  considerable  consumption  of  beer ;  but, 
while,  from  my  desire  to  promote  private  brewing, 
I  strongly  recommended  the  machine,  I  stated  that, 
"  if  any  of  my  readers  could  point  out  any  method  by 
which  we  should  be  more  likely  to  restore  the  practice 
of  private  brewing,  and  especially  to  the  cottage,  I 
should  be  greatly  obliged  to  them  to  communicate  it 
to  me."    Such  communications  have  been  made,  and 
I  am  very  happy  to  be  able,  in  this  new  edition  of  my 

3 


26  BREWING.  [No. 

little  work,  to  avail  myself  of  them.  There  was,  in 
the  Patent  Machine,  always,  an  objection  on  account 
of  the  expense;  for,  even  the  machine  for  one  bushel 
of  malt  cost,  at  the  reduced  price,  eight  pounds ;  a 
sum  far  above  the  reach  of  a  cottager,  and  even  above 
that  of  a  small  tradesman.  Its  convenience,  especially 
in  towns,  where  room  it  so  valuable,  was  an  object 
of  great  importance ;  but  there  were  disadvantages 
attending  it  which,  until  after  some  experience,  I 
did  not  ascertain.  It  will  be  remembered  that  the 
method  by  the  brewing  machine  requires  the  malt  to 
be  put  into  the  cold  water,  and  for  the  water  to  make 
the  malt  swim,  or,  at  least,  to  be  in  such  proportion  as 
to.prevent  the  fire  beneath  from  burning  the  malt.  We 
found  that  our  beer  was  flat,  and  that  it  did  not  keep. 
And  this  arose,  I  have  every  reason  to  believe,  from 
this  process.  The  malt  should  be  put  into  hot  water, 
and  the  water,  at  first,  should  be  but  just  sufficient  in 
quantity  to  stir  the  wait  in,  and  separate  it  well. 
Nevertheless,  when  it  is  merely  to  make  small  beer; 
beer  not  wanted  to  keep;  in  such  cases  the  brewing 
machine  may  be  of  use  ;  and,  as  will  be  seen  by-and- 
by,  a  moveable  boiler  (which  has  nothing  to  do  with 
the  patent)  may,  in  many  cases,  be  of  great  conveni- 
ence and  utility. 

42.  The  two  scales  of  which  I  have  spoken  above, 
are  now  to  be  spoken  of;  and,  that  I  may  explain  my 
meaning  the  more  clearly,  I  shall  suppose,  that,  for 
the  tradesman's  family,  it  will  be  requisite  to  brew 
eighteen  gallons  of  ale  and  thirty-six  of  small  beer, 
to  fill  three  casks  of  eighteen  gallons  each.  It  will  be 
observed,  of  course,  that,  for  larger  quantities,  larger 
utensils  of  all  sorts  will  be  wanted.  I  take  this  quan- 
tity as  the  one  to  give  directions  on.  The  utensils 
wanted  here  will  be,  FIRST,  a  copper  that  will  contain 
forty  gallons,  at  least ;  for,  though  there  be  to  be  but 
thirty-six  gallons  of  small  beer,  there  must  be  space 
lor  the  hops,  and  for  the  liquor  that  goes  ofi^n  steam. 
SECOND,  a  ma$hing~tvb  to  contain  sjxty  gallons; 
for  the  malt  is  to  be  in  this  along  with  the  water. 
THIRD,  an  underbuck,  or  shallow  tub  to  go  under  the 


II.]  BREWING.  27 

mash-tub,  for  the  wort  to  run  into  when  drawn  from 
the  grains.  FOURTH,  a  tun-tub,  that  will  contain 
thirty  gallons,  to  put  the  ale  into  to  work,  the  mash- 
tub,  as  we  shall  see,  serving  as  a  tun-tub  for  the  small 
beer.  Besides  these,  a  couple  of  coolers,  shallow  tubs, 
which  may  be  the  heads  of  wine  buts,  or  some  such 
things,  about  a  foot  deep ;  or  if  you  have  four  it  may 
be  as  well,  in  order  to  effect  the  cooling  more  quickly. 
43.  You  begin  by  filling  the  copper  with  water,  and 
next  by  making  the  water  boil.  You  then  put  into  the 
mashing-tub  water  sufficient  to  stir  and  separate  the 
malt  in.  But  now  let  me  say  more  particularly  what 
this  mashing-tub  is.  It  is,  you  know,  to  contain  sixty 
gallons.  It  is  to  be  a  little  broader  at  top  than  at  "bot- 
tom, and  not  quite  so  deep  as  it  is  wide  across  the 
bottom.  Into  the  middle  of  the  bottom  there  is  a 
hole  about  two  inches  over,  to  draw 'the  wort  off 
through.  In  this  hole  goes  a  stick,  a  foot  or  two 
longer  than  the  tub  is  high.  This  stick  is  to  be  about 
two  inches  through,  and  tapered  for  about  eight  inches 
upwards  at  the  end  that  goes  into  the  hole,  which  at 
last  it  fills  up  closely  as  a  cork.  Upon  the  hole,  be- 
fore any  thing  else  be  put  into  the  tub,  you  lay  a  little 
bundle  of  fine  birch,  (heath  or  straw  may  do,)  about 
half  the  bulk  of  a  birch  broom,  and  well  tied  at  both 
ends.  This  being  laid  over  the  hole  (to  keep  back  the 
grains  as  the  wort  goes  out,)  you  put  the  tapered  end 
of  the  stick  down  through  into  the  hole,  and  thus  cork 
the  hole  up.  You  must  then  have  something  of 
weight  sufficient  to  keep  the  birch  steady  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  tub,  with  a  hole  through  it  to  slip  down  the 
stick  ;  otherwise  when  the  stick  is  raised  it  will  be  apt 
to  raise  the  birch  with  it,  and  when  you  are  stirring 
the  mash  you  would  move  it  from  its  place.  The 
best  thing  for  this  purpose  will  be  a  leaden  collar  for 
the  stick,  with  the  hole  in  the  collar  plenty  large 
enough,  and  it  should  weigh  three  or  four  pounds. 
The  thing  they  use  in  some  farm-houses  is  the  iron  box 
of  a  wheel.  Any  thing  will  do  that  will  slide  down 
the  stick,  and  lie  with  weight  enough  on  the  birch 
to  keep  it  from  moving.  Now,  then,  you  are  ready 


28  BREWING.  [No. 

to  begin  brewing.  I  allow  two  bushels  of  malt  for  the 
brewing  I  have  supposed.  You  must  now  put  into 
the  mashing-tub  as  much  boiling  water  as  will  be  suf- 
ficient to  stir  the  malt  in  and  separate  it  well.  But 
here  occur  some  of  the  nicest  points  of  all ;  namely, 
the  degree  of  heat  that  the  water  is  to  be  at,  before 
you  put  in  the  malt.  This  heat  is  one  hundred  and 
seventy  degrees  by  the  thermometer.  If  you  have  a 
thermometer,  this  is  ascertained  easily ;  but,  without 
one,  take  this  rule,  .by  which  so  much  good  beer  has 
been  made  in  England  for  hundreds  of  years :  when 
you  can,  by  looking  down  into  the  tub,  see  your  face 
clearly  in  the  water,  the  water  is  become  cool  enough ; 
and  you  must  not  put  the  malt  in  before.  Now  put 
in  the  malt  and  stir  it  well  in  the  water.  To  perform 
this  stirring,  which  is  very  necessary,  you  have  a  stick, 
somewhat  bigger  than  a  broom-  stick,  with  two  or  three 
smaller  sticks,  eight  or  ten  inches  long,  put  through 
the  lower  end  of  it  at  about  three  or  four  inches  asunder, 
and  sticking  out  on  each  side  of  the  long  stick.  These 
small  cross  sticks  serve  to  search  the  malt  and  sepa- 
rate it  well  in  the  stirring  or  mashing.  Thus,  then, 
the  malt  is  in;  and  in  this  state  it  should  continue  for 
about  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  In  the  mean  while  you 
will  have  filled  up  your  copper,  and  made  it  boil;  and 
now  (at  the  end  of  the  quarter  of  an  hour)  you  put  in 
boiling  water  sufficient  to  give  you  your  eighteen  gal- 
lons of  ale.  But,  perhaps,  you  must  have  thirty  gal- 
lons of  water  in  the  whole  ;  for  the  grains  will  retain 
at  least  ten  gallons  of  water ;  and  it  is  better  to  have 
rather  too  much  wort  than  too  little.  When  your  pro- 
per quantity  of  water  is  in,  stir  the  malt  again  well. 
Cover  the  mashing-tub  over  with  sacks,  or  something 
that  will  answer  the  same  purpose ;  and  there  let  the 
mash  stand  for  two  hours.  When  it  has  stood  the 
two  hours,  you  draw  off  the  wort.  And  now,  mind, 
the  mashing-tub  is  placed  on  a  couple  of  stools,  or  on 
something,  that  will  enable  you  to  put  the  underbuck 
under  it,  so  as  to  receive  the  wort  as  it  comes  out  of 
the  hole  before-mentioned.  When  you  have  put  the 
underbuck  in  its  place,  you  let  out  the  wort  by  pulling 


IL]  BREWING.  29 

up  the  stick  that  corks  the  whole.  But,  observe,  this 
stick  (which  goes  six  or  eight  inches  through  the  hole) 
must  be  raised  by  degrees,  and  the  wort  must  be  let 
out  slowly,  in  order  to  keep  back  the  sediment.  So 
that  it  is  necessary  to  have  something  to  keep  the  stick 
up  at  the  point  where  you  are  to  raise  it,  and  wish  to 
fix  it  at  for  the  time.  To  do  this,  the  simplest,  cheap- 
est and  best  thing  in  the  world  is  a  cleft  stick.  Take 
a  rod  of  ash,  hazel,  birch,  or  almost  any  wood ;  let  it 
be  a  foot  or  two  longer  than  your  mash  ing-tub  is  wide 
over  the  top ;  split  it,  as  if  for  making  hoops  ;  tie  it 
round  with  a  string  at  each  end ;  lay  it  across  your 
mashing-tub ;  pull  it  open  in  the  middle,  and  let  the 
upper  part  of  the  wort-stick  through  it,  and  when  you 
raise  that  stick,  by  degrees  as  before  directed,  the  cleft 
stick  will  hold  it  up  at  whatever  height  you  please. 

44.  When  you  have  drawn  off  the  ale-wort,  you 
proceed  to  put  into  tbe  mashing  tub  water  for  the 
small  beer.     But,  I  shall  go  on  with  my  directions 
about  the  ale  till  I  have  got  it  into  the  cask  and  cel- 
lar •  and  shall  then  return  to  the  small-beer. 

45.  As  you  draw  off  the  ale-wort  into  the  under- 
buck,  you  must  lade  it  out  of  that  into  the  tun-tub,  for 
which  work,  as  well  as  for  various  other  purposes  in 
the  brewing,  you  must  ha  ye  a  bowl-dish  with  a  handle 
to  it.     The  underbuck  will  not  hold  the  whole  of  the 
wort.     It  is,  as  before  described,  a  shallow  tub,  to  go 
under  the  mashing-tub  to  draw  off  the  wort  into.  Out 
of  this  underbuck  you  must  lade  the  ale-wort  into  the 
tun-tub  ;  and  there  it  must  remain  till  your  copper 
be  emptied  and  ready  to  receive  it. 

46.  The  copper  being  empty,  you  put  the  wort  into 
it,  and  put  in  after  the  wort,  or  before  it,  a  pound  and 
a  half  of  good  hops,  well  rubbed  and  separated  as  you 
put  them  in.     You  now  make  the  copper  boil,  and 
keep  it,  with  the  lid  off,  at  a  good  brisk  boil,  for  a  full 
hour,  and  if  it  be  an  hour  and  a  half  it  is  none  the 
worse. 

47.  When  the  boiling  is  done,  put  out  your  fire, 
and  put  the  liquor  into  the  coolers.    But  it  must  be 
put  into  the  coolers  without  the  hops.     Therefore,  in 

3* 


30  BREWING.  t^O. 

order  to  get  the  hops  out  of  the  liquor,  you  must  have 
a  strainer.  The  best  for  your  purpose  is  a  small 
clothes-basket,  or  any  other  wicker-basket.  You  set 
your  coolers  in  the  most  convenient  place.  It  may  be 
in-doors  or  out  of  doors,  as  most  convenient.  You 
lay  a  couple  of  sticks  across  one  of  the  coolers,  and 
put  the  basket  upon  them.  Put  your  liquor,  hops 
and  all,  into  the  basket,  which  will  keep  back  the  hops. 
When  you  have  got  liquor  enough  in  one  cooler,  you 
go  to  another  with  your  sticks  and  basket,  till  you  have 
got  all  your  liquor  out.  If  you  find  your  liquor  deeper 
in  one  cooler  than  the  other,  you  can  make  an  altera- 
tion in  that  respect,  till  you  have  the  liquor  so  distri- 
buted as  to  cool  equally  fast  in  both,  or  all,  the  coolers. 
48.  The 'next  stage  of  the  liquor  is  in  the  tun-tub, 
where  it  is  set  to  work.  Now,  a  very  great  point  is, 
the  degree  of  heat  that  the  liquor  is  to  be  at  when  it 
is  set.  to  working.  The  proper  heat  is  seventy  de- 
grees ;  so  that  a  thermometer  makes  this  matter  sure. 
In  the  country  they-  determine  the  degree  of  heat  by 
merely  putting  a  finger  into  the  liquor.  Seventy  de- 
grees is  but  just  warm,  a  gentle  luke-warmth.  No- 
thing like  heat.  A  little  experience  makes  perfect- 
ness  in  such  a  matter.  When  at  the  proper  heat,  or 
nearly,  (for  the  liquor  will  cool  a  little  in  being  re- 
moved,) put  it  into  the  tun-tub.  And  now,  before  I 
speak  of  the  act  of  setting  the  beer  to  work,  I  must 
describe  this  tun-tub,  which  I  first  mentioned  in  Para- 
graph 42.  It  is  to  hold  thirty  gallons,  as  you  have 
seen ;  and  nothing  is  better  than  an  old  cask  of  that 
size,  or  somewhat  larger,  with  the  head  taken  out,  or 
cut  off.  But,  indeed,  any  tub  of  sufficient  dimensions, 
and  of  about  the  same  depth  proportioned  to  the 
width  as  a  cask  or  barrel  has,  will  do  for  the  purpose. 
Having  put  the  liquor  into  the.  tun-tub,  you  put  in  the 
yeast.  About  half  a  pint  of  good  yeast  is  sufficient. 
This  should  first  be  put  into  a  thing  of  some  sort  that 
will  hold  about  a  gallon  of  your  liquor ;  the  thing 
should  then  be  nearly  filled  with  liquor,  and  with  a 
stick  or  spoon  you  should  mix  the  yeast  well  with  the 
liquor  in  this  bowl,  or  other  thing,  and  stir  in  along 


II."]  BREWING.  31 

with  the  yeast  a  handful  of  wheat  or  rye  flour.  This 
mixture  is  then  to  be  poured  out  clean  into  the  tun- 
tub,  and  the  whole  mass  of  the  liquor  is  then  to  be 
agitated  well  by  lading  up  and  pouring  down  again 
with  your  bowl-dish,  till  the  yeast  be  well  mixed  with 
the  liquor.  Some  people  do  the  thing  in  another 
manner.  They  mix  up  the  yeast  and  flour  with 
some  liquor  (as  just  mentioned)  taken  out  of  the 
coolers ;  and  then  they  set  the  little  vessel  that  con- 
tains this  mixture  down  on  the  bottom,  of  the  tun-tub  ; 
and,  leaving  it  there,  put  the  liquor  out  of  the  coolers 
into  the  tun-tub.  Being  placed  at  the  bottom,  and 
having  the  liquor  poured  on  it,  the  mixture  is,  per- 
haps, more  perfectly  effected  in  this  way  than  in  any 
way.  The  flour  may  not  be  necessary ;  but,  as  the 
country  people  use  it,  it  is,  doubtless,  of  some  use ; 
for  their  hereditary  experience  has  not  been  for  no- 
thing. When  your  liquor  is  thus  properly  put  into 
the  tun-tub  and  set  a  working,  cover  over  the  top  of 
the  tub  by  laving  across  it  a  sack  or  two,  or  some- 
thing that  will  answer  the  purpose. 

49.  We  now  come  to  the  last  stage  ;  the  cask  or 
barrel.  But  I  must  first  speak  of  the  place  for  the 
tun-tub  to  stand  in.  The  place  should  be  such  as 
to  avoid  too  much  warmth  or  cold.  The  air  should, 
if  possible,  be  at  about  55  degrees.  Any  cool  place 
in  summer  and  any  warmish  place  in  winter.  If  the 
weather  be  very  cold,  some  cloths  or  sacks  should  be 
put  round  the  tun-tub  while  the  beer  is  working.  In 
about  six  or  eight  hours,  a  frothy  head  will  rise  upon 
the  liquor;  and  it  will  keep  rising,  more  or  less  slow- 
ly, for  about  forty-eight  hours.  But,  the  length  of 
time  required  for  the  working  depends  on  various  cir- 
cumstances; so  that  no  precise  time  can  be  fixed. 
The  best  way  is,  to  take  off  the  froth  (which  is  in- 
deed yeast)  at  the  end  of  about  twenty-four  hours, 
with  a  common  skimmer,  arid  put  it  into  a  pan  or 
vessel  of  some  sort ;  then,  in  twelve  hours'  time, 
take  it  off  again  in  the  s^ime  way;  and  so  on  till  the 
liquor  has  done  working,  and  sends  up  no  more  yeast. 
Then  it  is  beer  ;  and  when  it  is  quite  cold  (for  ale  or 


32  BREWING.  [No. 

strong  beer)  put  it  into  the  cask  by  means  of  a  fun- 
nel. It  must  be  cold  before  you  do  this,  or  it  will  be 
what  the  country-people  call  foxed  ;  that  is  to  say, 
have  a  rank  and  disagreeable  taste.  Now,  as  to  the 
cask,  it  must  be  sound  and  sweet.  I  thought,  when 
writing  the  former  edition  of  this  work,  that  the  bell- 
shaped  were  the  best  casks.  I  am  now  convinced 
that  that  was  an  error.  The  bell-shaped,  by  con- 
tracting the  width  of  the  top  of  the  beer,  as  that  top 
descends,  in  consequence  of  the  draft  for  use,  certainly 
prevents  the  head  (which  always  gathers  on  beer  as 
soon  as  you  begin  to  draw  it  off)  from  breaking  and 
mixing  in  amongst  the  beer.  This  is  an  advantage 
in  the  bell-shape;  but  then  the  bell-shape,  which  pla- 
ces the  widest  end  of  the  cask  uppermost,  exposes 
the  cask  to  the  admission  of  external  air  much  more 
than  the  other  shape.  This  danger  approaches  from 
the  ends  of  the  cask ;  and,  in  the  bell-shape,  you 
have  the  broadest  end  wholly  exposed  the  moment 
you  have  drawn  out  the  first  gallon  of  beer,  which  is 
not  the  case  with  the  casks  of  the  common  shape. 
Directions  are  given,  in  the  case  of  the  bell-casks, 
to  put  damp  sand  on  the  top  to  keep  out  the  air.  But, 
it  is  very  difficult  to  make  this  effectual ;  and  yet,  if 
you  do  not  keep  out  the  air,  your  beer  will  be  flat  ; 
and  when  flat,  it  really  is  good  for  nothing  but  the 
pigs.  It  is  very  difficult  to  Jill  the  bell-cask,  which 
you  will  easily  see  if  you  consider  its  shape,  It  must 
be  placed  on  the  level  with  the  greatest  possible 
truth,  or  there  will  be  a  space  left ;  and  to  place  it 
with  such  truth  is,  perhaps,  as  difficult  a  thing  as  a 
mason  or  bricklayer  ever  had  to  perform.  And  yet, 
if  this  be  not  done,  there  will  be  an  empty  space  in 
the  cask,  though  it  may,  at  the  same  time,  run  over. 
With  the  common  casks  there  are  none  of  these  dif- 
ficulties. A  common  eye  will  see  when  it  is  well 
placed  ;  and,  at  any  rate,  any  little  vacant  space  that 
may  be  left  is  not  at  an  end  of  the  cask,  and  will, 
without  great  carelessness,  be  so  small  as  to  be  of  no 
consequence.  We  now  come  to  the  act  of  putting 
in  the  beer.  The  cask  should  be  placed  on  a  stand 


II.]  BREWING.  33 

with  legs  about  a  foot  long.  The  cask,  being  round, 
must  have  a  little  wedge,  or  block,  on  each  side  to 
keep  it  steady.  Bricks  do  very  well.  Bring  your 
beer  down  into  the  cellar  in  buckets,  and  pour  it  in 
through  the  funnel,  until  the  cask  be  full.  The  cask 
should  lean  a  little  on  one  side,  when  you  fill  it ;  be- 
cause the  beer  will  work  again  here,  and  send  more 
yeast  out  of  the  bung-hole ;  and,  if  the  cask  were 
not  a  little  on  one  side,  the  yeast  would  flow  over 
both  sides  of  the  cask,  and  would  not  descend  in 
one  stream  into  a  pan,  put  underneath  to  receive  it. 
Here  the  bell-cask  is  extremely  inconvenient ;  for 
the  yeast  works  up  all  over  the  head,  and  cannot  run 
off,  and  makes  a  very  nasty  affair.  This  alone,  to 
say.  nothing  of  the  other  disadvantages,  would  de- 
cide'the  question  against  the  bell-casks.  Something 
will  go  off  in  this  working,  which  may  continue  for 
two  or  three  days.  When  you  put  the  beer  in  the 
cask,  you  should  have  a  gallon  or  two  left,  to  keep 
filling  up  with  as  the  working  produces  emptiness-; 
At  last,  when  the  working  is  completely  over,  right 
the  cask.  That  is  to  say,  block  it  up  to  its  level. 
Put  in  a  handful  of  fresh  hops.  Fill  the  cask  quite 
full.  Put  in  the  bung,  with  a  bit  of  coarse  linen 
stuff  round  it ;  hammer  it  down  tight ;  and,  if  you 
like,  fill  a  coarse  bag  with  sand,  and  lay  it,  well 
pressed  down,  over  the  bung. 

50.  As  to  the  length  of  time  that  you  are  to  keep 
the  beer  before  you  begin  to  'use  it,  that  must,  in 
some  measure,  depend  on  taste.  Such  beer  as  this 
ale  will  keep  almost  any  length  of  time.  As  to  the 
mode  of  tapping,  that  is  as  easy  almost  as  drinking. 
When  the  cask  is  empty,  great  care  must  be  taken 
to  cork  it  tightly  up,  so  that  no  air  get  in  ;  for,  if  it 
do,  the  cask  is  moulded,  and  when  once  moulded,  it 
is  spoiled  for  ever.  It  is  never  again  fit  to  be  used 
about  beer.  Before  the  cask  be  used  again,  the 
grounds  must  be  poured  out,  and  the  cask  cleaned  by 
several  times  scalding ;  by  putting  in  stones  (or  a 
chain,)  and  rolling  and  shaking  about  till  it  be  quite 
clean.  Here  again  the  round  casks  have  the  decided 


34  BREWING.  |N<X 

advantage;  it  being  almost  impossible  to  make  the 
bell-casks  thoroughly  clean,  without  taking  the  head 
outj  which  is  both  troublesome  and  expensive  ;  as  it 
cannot  be  well  done  by  any  one  but  a  cooper,  who 
is  not  always  at  hand,  and  who,  when  he  is,  must 
be  paid. 

51.  I  have  now  done  with  the  ale,  and  it  remains 
for  me  to  speak  of  the  small  beer.     In  Paragraph  47 
(which  now  see)  I  left  you  drawing  off  the  ale-wort, 
and  with  your  copper  full  of  boiling  water.     Thirty- 
six  gallons  of  that  boiling  water  are,  as  soon  as  you 
have  got  your  ale-wort  out,  and  have  put  down  your 
mash-tub  stick  to  close  up  the  hole  at  the  bottom ; 
as  soon  as  you  have  done  this,  thirty-six  gallons  of 
the  boiling  water  are  to  go  into  the  mashing-tub;  the 
grains  are  to  be  well  stirred  up,  as  before;  Ihe  mash- 
ing-tub is  to  be  covered  over  again,  as  mentioned  in 
Paragraph  43;   and  the  mash  is  to  stand  in   that 
state  for  an  hour,  and  not  two  hours,  as  for  the  ale- 
wort. 

52.  When  the  small  beer  mash  has  stood  its  hour, 
draw  it  off  as  in  Paragraph  47,  and  put  it  into  the 
tun-tub  as  you  did  the  ale-wort. 

53.  By  this  time  your  copper  will  be  empty  again, 
by  putting  your  ale-liquor  to  cool,  as  mentioned  in 
Paragraph  47.    And  you  now  put  the  small  beer  wort 
into  the  copper,  with  the  hops  that  you  used  before, 
and  with  half  a  pound  of  fresh  hops  added  to  them  ; 
and  this  liquor  you  boil  Briskly  for  an  hour. 

54.  By  this  time  you  will  have  taken  the  grains 
and  the  sediment  clean  out  of  the  mashing-tub,  and 
taken  out  the  bunch  of  birch  twigs,  and  made  all 
clean.     Now  put  in  the  birch  twigs  again,  and  put 
down  your  stick  as  before.     Lay  your  two  or  three 
sticks  across  the  mashing-tub,  put  your  basket  on 
them,  and  take  your  liquor  from  the  copper  (putting 
the  fire  out  first)  and  pour  it  into  the  mashing-tub 
through  the  basket.     Take  the  basket  away,  throw 
the  hops  to  the  dunghill,  and  leave  the  small  beer 
liquid  to  cool  in  the  mashing-tub. 

55.  Here  it  is  to  remain  to  be  set  to  working-  as 


II.]  BREWING.  35 

mentioned  for  the  ale,  in  Paragraph  48 ;  only,  in  this 
case,  you  will  want  more  yeast  in  proportion ;  and 
should  have  for  your  thirty-six  gallons  of  small  beer, 
three  half  pints  of  good  yeast. 

56.  Proceed,  as  to  all  the  rest  of  the  business,  as 
with  the  ale,  only,  in  the  case  of  the  small  beef,  it 
should  be  put  into  the  cask,  not  quite  cold,  but  a  tittle 
warm, ;  or  else  it  will  not  work  at  aft  in  the  barrel, 
which  it  ought  to  do.   It  will  not  work  so  strongly  of 
so  long  as  the  ale;  and  may  be  put  in  the  barrel  much 
sooner ;  in  general  the  next  day  after  it  is  brewed. 

57.  All  the  utensils  should  be  well  cleaned  and 
put  away  as  soon  as  they  are  done  with ;  the  little 
things  as  well  as  the  great  things ;  for  it.  is  loss  of 
time  to  make  new  ones.     And,  now,  let  us  see  the 
expense  of  these  utensils.     The  copper,  new,  51. ; 
the  mash  ing-tub,  new,  30.?.;  the  tun-tub,  not  new,  5s.; 
the  underbuck  and  three  coolers,  not  new,  20s.    The 
whole  cost  is  71.  10s.  which  is  ten  shillings  less  than 
the  one  bushel  machine.     I  am  now  in  a  farm-house, 
where  the  same  set  of  utensils  has  been  used  for 
forty  years  ;  and  the  owner  tells  me,  that,  with  the 
same  use,  they  may  last  fox  forty  years  longer.   The 
machine  will  not,  I  think,  last  four  years^  if  in  any 
thing  like  regular  use.     It  is  of  sheet-iron,  tinned  on 
the  inside,  and  this  tin  rusts  exceedingly,  and  is  not 
to  be  kept  clean' without  such  rubbing  as  must  soon 
take  off  the  tin.     The  great  advantage  of  the  ma- 
chine is,  that  it  can  he  removed.    You  can  brew  with- 
out a  brew-house. — You  can  set  the  boiler  up  against 
any  fire-place,  or  any  window.     You  can  brew  un- 
der a  cart-shed,  and  even  out  of  doors.     But  all  this 
may  be  done  with  these  utensils,  if  your  copper  be 
moveable.     Make  the  boiler  of  copper,  and  not  of 
sheet-iron^  and  fix  it  on  a  stand  with  a  fire-place  and 
stove-pipe ;  and  then  you  have  the  whole  to  brew 
out  of  doors  with  as  welj  as  in-doors,  which  is  a  very 
great  convenience. 

58.  Now  with  regard  to  the  other  scale  of  brewing, 
little  need  be  said  ;  because,  all  the  principles  being 
the  same,  the  utensils  only  are  to  be  proportioned  to 


36  BREWING.  [No, 

the  quantity.  If  only  one  sort  of  beer  be  to  be  brewed 
at  a  time,  all  the  difference  is,  that,  in  order  to  extract 
the  whole  of  the  goodness  of  the  malt,  the  mashing 
ought  to  be  at  twice.  The  two  worts  are  then  put  to- 
gether, and  then  you  boil  them  together  with  the  hops. 

59.  A  Correspondent  at  Morpeth  says,  the  whcle  of 
the  utensils  used  by  him  are  a  twenty-gallon  pot,  a 
mashing-tub,  that  also  answers  for  a  tun-tub,  and  a 
shallow  tub  for  a  cooler;  and  that  these  are  plenty  for 
a  person  who  is  any  thing  of  a  contriver.     This  is 
very  true ;  and  these  things  will  cost  no  more,  perhaps, 
than  forty  shilling's.     A  nine  gallon  cask  of  beer  can 
be  brewed  very  well  with  such  utensils.   Indeed,  it  is 
what  used  to  be  done  by  almost  every  labouring  man 
in  the  kingdom,  until  the  high  price  of  malt  and  com- 
paratively low  price  of  wages  rendered  the  people  too 
poor  and  miserable  to  be  able  to  brew  at  all.    A  Cor- 
respondent at  Bristol  has  obligingly  sent  me  the  model 
of  utensils  for  brewing  on  a  small  scale;  but  as  they 
consist  chiefly  of  brittle  ware,   I  am  of  opinion  that 
they  would  not  so  well  answer  the  purpose. 

60.  Indeed,  as  to  the  country  labourers,  all  they  want 
is  the  ability  to  get  the  malt.     Mr.  ELLMAN,  in  his 
evidence   before  the  Agricultural  Committee,    said, 
that,  when  he  began  farming,  forty-five  years  ago, 
there  was  not  a  labourer's  family  in  the  parish  that 
did  not  brew  their  own  beer  and  enjoy  it  by  their  own 
fire-sides ;  and  that,  now,  not  one  single  family  did  it, 

from  want  of  ability  to  get  the  malt.  It  is  the  tax 
that  prevents  their  getting  the  malt ;  for,  the  barley  is 
cheap  enough.  The  tax  causes  a  monopoly  in  the 
hands  of  the  maltsters,  who,  when  the  tax  is  two  and 
sixpence,  make  the  malt,  cost  Is.  6cZ.,  though  the  bar- 
ley cost  but  2s.  6.d;  and  though  the  malt,  tax  and  all, 
ought  to  cost  him  about  5s.  (yd.  If  the  tax  were  taken 
off,  this  pernicious  'monopoly  would  be  destroyed. 

61.  The  reader  will  easily  see,  that,  in  proportion 
to  the  quantity  wanted  to  be  brewed  must  be  the  size 
of  the  utensils ;  but,  I  may  observe  here,  that  the  above 
utensils  are  sufficient  for  three,  or  even  four,  bushels 
of  malt,  if  stronger  beer  be  wanted. 


II.]  BREWING.  37 

62.  When  it  is  necessary,  in  case  of  falling  short 
in  the  quantity  wanted  to  fill  up  the  ale  cask,  some 
may  be  taken  from  the  small  beer.     But,  upon  the 
whole  brewing^  there  ought  to  be  no  falling  short ;  be- 
cause, if  the  casks  be  not  Jilted  up,  the  beer  will  not  be 
good,  and  certainly  will  not  keep.     Great  care  should 
be  taken  as  to  the  cleansing  of  the  casks.     They 
should  be  made  perfectly  sweet;  or  it  is  impossible  to 
have  good  beer. 

63.  The  cellar,  for  beer  to  keep  any  length  of  time, 
should  be  cool.     Under  a  hill  is  the  best  place  for  a 
cellar ;  but,  at  any  rate,  a  cellar  of  good  depth,  and  dry. 
At  certain  times  of  the  year,  beer  that  is  kept  long 
will  ferment.     The  vent-pegs  must,  in  such  cases,  be 
loosened  a  little,  and  afterwards  fastened. 

64.  Small  beer  may  be  tapped  almost  directly.     It 
is  a  sort  of  joke  that  it  should  see  a  Sunday;  but,  that 
it  may  do  before  it  be  two  days  old.     In  short,  any 
beer  is  better  than  water ;  but  it  should  have  some 
strength  and  some  weeks  of  age  at  any  rate. 

65.  I  cannot  conclude  this  Essay  without  express- 
ing my  pleasure,  that  a  law  has  been  recently  passed 
to  authorize  the  general  retail  of  beer.     This  really 
seems  necessary  to  prevent  the  King's  subjects  from 
being  poisoned.   The  brewers  and  porter  quacks  have 
carried  their  tricks  to  such  an  extent,  that  there  is  no 
safety  for  those  who  drink  brewer's  beer. 

66.  The  best  and  most  effectual  thing  is,  however, 
for  people  to  brew  their  own  beer,  to  enable  them  and 
induce  them  to  do  which,  I  have  done  all  that  lies  in 
my  power.     A  longer  treatise  on  the  subject  would 
have  been  of  no  use.     These  few  plain  directions 
will  suffice  for  those  who  have  a  disposition  to  do  the 
thing,  and  those  who  have  not  would  remain  unmoved 
by  any  thing  that  I  could  say. 

67.  There  seems  to  be  a  great  number  of  things 
to  do  in  brewing,  but  the  greater  part  of  them  require 
only  about  a  minute  each.   A  brewing,  such  as  I  have 

fiven  the  detail  of  above,  may  be  completed  in  a  day; 
ut,  by  the  word  day,  I  mean  to  include  the  morning, 
beginning  at  four  o'clock. 

4  ; 


38  BREWING.  [No. 

68.  The  putting  of  the  beer  into  barrel  is  not  more 
than  an  hour's  work  for  a  servant  woman,  or  a  trades- 
man's or  a  farmer's  wife.    There  is  no  heavy  work,  no 
work  too  heavy  for  a  woman  in  any  part  of  the  busi- 
ness, otherwise  I  would  not  recommend  it  to  be  per- 
formed by  the  women,  who,  though  so  amiable  in  them- 
selves, are  never  quite  so  amiable  as  when  they  are 
useful;  and  as  to  beauty,  though  men  may  fall  in  love 
with  girls  at  play -,  there  is  nothing  to  make  them  stand 
to  their  love  like  seeing  them  at  work.    In  conclusion 
of  these  remarks  on  beer  brewing,  I  once  more  express 
my  most  anxious  desire  to  see  abolished  for'  ever  the 
accursed  tax  on  malt,  which,  I  verily  believe,  has 
done  more  harm  to  the  people  of  England  than  was 
ever  done  to  any  people  by  plague,  pestilence,  famine, 
and  civil  war. 

69.  In  Paragraph  76,  in  Paragraph  108,  and  per- 
haps in  another  place  or  two  (of  the  last  edition,)- 1 
spoke  of  the  machine  for  brewing.     The  work  being 
stereotyped,  it  would  have  been  troublesome  to  alter 
those  paragraphs ;  but,  of  course,  the  public,  in  read- 
ing them,  will  bear  in  mind  what  has  been  now  said 
relative  to  the  machine.     The  inventor  of  that  ma- 
chine deserves  great  praise  for  his  efforts  to  promote 
private  brewing ;  and,  as  I  said  before,  in  certain  con- 
fined situations,  and  where  the  beer  is  to  be  merely 
small  beer,  and  for  immediate  use,  and  where  time 
and  room  are  of  such  importance  as  to  make  the  cost 
of  the  machine  comparatively  of  trifling  considera- 
tion, the  machine  may  possibly  be  found  to  be  an  use- 
ful utensil. 

70.  Having  stated  the  inducements  to  the  brewing 
of  beer,  and  given  the  plainest  directions  that  I  was 
able  to  give  for  the  doing  of  the  thing,  I  shall,  next, 
proceed  to  the  subject  of  bread.     But  this  subject  is 
too  large  and  of  too  much  moment  to  be  treated  with 
brevity,  and  must,  therefore,  be  put  off  till  my  next 
Number.     I  cannot,  in  the  mean  while,  dismiss  the 
subject  of  brewing1  beer  without  once  more  adverting 
to  its  many  advantages,  as  set  forth  in  the  foregoing 
Number  of  this  work. 


II.l  BREWING.  39 

71.  The  following  instructions  for  the  making  of 
porter,  will  clearly  show  what  sort  of  stuff  is  sold  at 
public-houses  in  London ;  and  we  may  pretty  fairly 
suppose  that  the  public-house  beer  in  the  country  is 
not  superior  to  it  in  quality,  "  A  quarter  of  malt,  with 
these  ingredients,  will  make  Jive  barrels  of  good  por- 
ter.    Take  one  quarter  of  high-coloured  malt,  eight 
pounds  of  hops,  nine  pounds  of  treacle,  eight  pounds 
of  colour,  eight  pounds  of  sliced  liquorice-root,  two 
drams  of  salt  of  tartar,  two  ounces  of  Spanish-liquor- 
ice, 'and  half  an  ounce  of  capsicum."     The  author 
says,  that  he  merely  gives  the  ingredients,  as  used  by 
many  persons. 

72.  This  extract  is  taken  from  a  book  on  brewing, 
recently  published  in  London.     What  a  curious  com- 
position !    What  a  mess  of  drugs  !     But,  if  the  brew- 
ers openly  avow  this,  what  have  we  to  expect  from  the 
secret  practices  of  them,  and  the  retailers  of  the  arti- 
cle !     When  we  know,  that  beer-doctor  and  brewers1- 
druggist  are  professions,  practised  as  openly  as  those 
of  bug-man  and  rdt-killer,  are  we  simple  enough  to 
suppose  that  the  above-named  are  the  only  drugs  that 
people  swallow  in  those  potions,  which  they  call  pots 
of  beer  ?    Indeed,  we  know  the  contrary ;  for  scarcely 
a  week  passes-  without  witnessing  the  detection  of 
some  greedy  wretch,  who  has  used,  in  making  or  in 
doctoring  his  beer,  drugs,  forbidden  by  the  law.  And, 
it  is  not  many  weeks  since  one  of  these  was  convict- 
ed, in  the  Court  of  Excise,  for  using  potent  and  dan- 
gerous drugs,  by  the  means  of  which,  and  a  suitable 
quantity  of  water,  he  made  two  buts  of  beer  into  three. 
Upon  this  occasion,  it  appeared  that  no  less  than  nine- 
ty of  these  worthies  were  in  the  habit  of  pursuing  the 
same  practices.     The  drugs  are  not  unpleasant  to  the 
taste ;  they  sting  the  palate :  they  give  a  present  re- 
lish: they. communicate  a  momentary  exhilaration: 
but,  they  give  no  force  to  the  body,  which,  on  the  con- 
trary, they  enfeeble,  and,  in  many  instances,  with 
time,  destroy ;   producing   diseases  from  which  the 
drinker  would  otherwise  have  been  free  to  the  end 
of  his  days. 


40  BREWING.  [No. 

73.  But,  look  again  at  the  receipt  for  making  por- 
ter.    Here  are  eight  bushels  of  malt  to  180  gallons" 
of  beer ;  that  is  to  say,  twenty-five  gallons  from  the 
bushel.  Now  the  malt  is  eight  shillings  a  bushel,  and 
eight  pounds  of  the  very  best  hops  will  cost  but  a  shil- 
ling a  pound.     The  malt  and  hops,  then,  for  the  180 
gallons,  cost  but  seventy-two  shillings  ;  that  is  to  say, 
only  a  little  more  than  fourpence  three  farthings  a 
gallon,  for  stuff  which  is  now  retailed  for  sixteen 
pence  a  gallon!     If  this  be  not  an  abomination,  I 
should  be  glad  to  know  what  is.    Even  if  the  treacle, 
colour,  and  the  drugs,  be  included,  the  cost  is  notjive- 
pence  a  gallon;   and  yet,  not  content  with  this  enor- 
mous extortion,  there  are  wretches  who  resort  to  the 
use  of  other  and  pernicious  drugs,  in  order  to  increase 
their  gains ! 

74.  To  provide  against  this  dreadful  evil  there  is, 
and  there  can  be,  no  law  ;  for,  it  is  created  by  the  law. 
The  law  it  is  that  imposes  the  enormous  tax  on  the 
malt  and  hops  ;  the  law  it  is  that  imposes  the  license 
tax,  and  places  the  power  of  granting  the  license  at 
the  discretion  of  persons  appointed  by  the  govern- 
ment ;  the  law  it  is  that  checks,  in  this  way,  the  pri- 
vate brewing,  and  that  prevents  jfree  and  fair  competi- 
tion in  the  selling  of  beer,  and  as  long  as  the  law  does 
these,  it  will  in  vain  endeavour  to  prevent  the  people 
from  being  destroyed  by  slow  poison. 

75.  Innumerable  are  the  benefits  that  would  arise  from 
a  repeal  of  the  taxes  on  malt  and  on  hops.  Tippling- 
houses  might  then  be  shut  up  with  justice  and  propri- 
ety. The  .labourer,  the  artisan,  the  tradesman,  the 
landlord,  all  would  instantly  feel  the  benefit.  But  the 
landlord  more,  perhaps,  in  this  case,  than  any  other 
member  of  the  community.  The  four  or  five  pounds 
a  year  which  the  day-labourer  now  drizzles  away  in 
tea-messes,  he  would  divide  with  the  farmer,  if  he  had 
untaxed  beer.  His  wages  would  fall,  and  fall  to  his 
advantage  too.  The  fall  of  wages  would  be  not  less 
than  40/.  upon  a  hundred  acres.  Thus  40/.  would  go, 
in  the  end,  a  fourth,  perhaps  to  the  farmer,  and  three- 
fourths  to  the  landlord,  This  is  the  kind  of  work  to 


III.]  MAKING  BREAD,  41 

reduce  poor-rates,  and  to  restore  husbandry  to  prospe- 
rity, undertaken  this  work  must  be,  and  performed 
too  ;  but  whether  we  shall  see  this  until  the  estates 
have  passed  away  from  the  present  race  of  landlords, 
is  a  question  which  must  be  referred  to  time. 

76.  Surely  we  may  hope,  that,  when  the  American 
farmers  shall  see  this  little  Essay,  they  will  begin  se- 
riously to  think  of  leaving  off  the  use  of  the  liver- 
burning  and  palsy-producing  spirits.  Their  climate, 
indeed,  is  something :  extremely  hot  in  one  part  of 
the  year,  and  extremely  cold  in  the  other  part  of  it. 
Nevertheless,  they  may  have,  and  do  have,  very  good 
beer  if  they  will.  Negligence  is  the  greatest  impedi- 
ment in  their  way.  I  like  the  Americans  very  much ; 
and  that,  if  there  were  no  other,  would  be  a  reason 
for  my  not  hiding  their  faults. 


No.  III. 

MAKING    BREAD. 

77.  LITTLE  time  need  be  spent  in  dwelling  on  the 
necessity  of  this  article  to  all  families ;  though,  on  ac- 
count of  the  modern  custom  of  using  potatoes  to  sup- 
ply the  place  of  bread,  it  seems  necessary  to  say  a  few 
words  here  on  the  subject,  which,  in  another  work  I 
have  so  amply,  and,  I  think,  so  triumphantly  discussed. 
I  am  the  more  disposed  to  revive  the  subject  for  a  mo- 
ment, in  this  place,  from  having  read,  in  the  evidence 
recently  given   before  the  Agricultural    Committee, 
that  many  labourers,  especially  in  the  West  of  Eng- 
land, use  potatoes  instead  of  bread  to  a  very  great  ex- 
tent.    And  I  find,  from  the  same  evidence,  that  it  is 
the  custom  to  allot  to  labourers  "  a  potatoe  ground" 
in  part  payment  of  their  wages  !     This  has  a  tenden- 
cy to  bring  English  labourers  down  to  the  state  of  the 
Irish,  whose  mode  of  living,  as  to  food,  is  but  one  re- 
move from  that  of  the  pig,  and  of  the  ill-fed  pig  too. 

78.  I  was,  in  reading  the    above-mentioned  Evi- 

4* 


42  MAKING  BREAD.  [No. 

dence,  glad  to  find,  that  Mr.  EDWARD  WAKEFIELD, 
the  best  informed  and  most  candid  of  all  the  wit- 
nesses, gave  it  as  his  opinion,  that  the  increase  which 
had  taken  place  in  the  cultivation  of  potatoes  was 
"injurious  to  the  country /'  an  opinion  which  must,  I 
think,  be  adopted  by  every  one  who  takes  the  trouble 
to  reflect  a  little  upon  the  subject.  For  leaving  out  of 
the  question  the  slovenly  and  beastly  habits  engen- 
dered amongst  the  labouring  classes  by  constantly  lift- 
ing their  principal  food  at  once  out  of  the  earth  to 
their  mouths,  by  eating  without  the  necessity  of  any 
implements  other  than  the  hands  and  the  teeth,  and 
by  dispensing  with  everything  requiring  skill  in  the 
preparation  of  the  food,  and  requiring  cleanliness  in 
its  consumption  or  preservation  ;  leaving  these  out  of 
the  question,  though  they  are  all  matters  of  great  mo- 
ment, when  we  consider  their  effects  in  the  rearing  of 
a  family,  we  shall  find,  that,  in  mere  quantity  of  food, 
that  is  to  say  of  nourishment,  bread  is  the  preferable  diet. 
79.  An  acre  of  land  that  will  produce  300  bushels 
of  potatoes,  will  produce  32  bushels  of  wheat.  I  state 
this  as  an  average  fact,  and  am  not  at  all  afraid  of 
being  contradicted  by  any  one  well  acquainted  with 
husbandry.  The  potatoes  are  supposed  to  be  of  a  good 
sort,  as  it  is  called,  and  the  wheat  may  be  supposed  to 
weigh  60  pounds  a  bushel.  It  is  a  fact  clearly  estab- 
lished, that,  after  the  water,  the  stringy  substance,  and 
the  earth,  are  taken  from  the  potatoe,  there  remains 
only  one  tenth  of  the  rough  raw  weight  of  nutritious 
matter,  or  matter  which  is  deemed  equally  nutritious 
with  bread,  and,  as  the  raw  potatoes  weigh  561b.  a 
bushel,  the  acre  will  yield  l,8301b.  of  nutritious  mat- 
ter. Now  mind,  a  bushel  of  wheat,  weighing  601b. 
will  make  of  household  bread  (that  is  to  say,  taking 
out  only  the  bran)  651b.  Thus,  the  acre  yields 
2,0801b.  of  bread.  As  to  the  expenses,  the  seed  and 
act  of  planting  are  about  equal  in  the  two  cases.  But, 
while  the  potatoes  must  have  cultivation  during  their 
growth,  the  wheat  needs  none  ;  and  while  the  wheat 
straw  is  worth  from  three  to  five  pounds  an  acre,  the 
haulm  of  the  potatoes  is  not  worth  one  single  truss 


III.]  MAKING  BREAD.  43 

of  that  straw.  Then,  as  to  the  expense  of  gathering, 
housing,  and  keeping  the  potatoe  crop,  it  is  enormous, 
besides  the  risk  of  loss  by  frost,  which  may  be  safely 
taken,  on  an  average,  at  a  tenth  of  the  crop.  Then 
comes  the  expense  of  cooking.  The  thirty-two  bush- 
els of  wheat,  supposing  a  bushel  to  be  baked  at  a  time, 
(which  would  be  the  case  in  a  large  family,)'  would 
demand  thirty-two  heatings  of  the  oven.  Suppose 
a  bushel  of  potatoes  to  be  cooked  every  day  in  order 
to  supply  the  place  of  this  bread,  then  we  have  nine 
hundred  boilings  of  the  pot,  unless  cold  potatoes  be 
eaten  at  some  of  the  meals ;  and,  in  that  case,  the 
diet  must  be  cheering  indeed  !  Think  of  the  labour  ; 
think  of  the  time  ;  think  of  all  the  peelings  and  scra- 
pings and  washings  and  messings  attending  these 
nine  hundred  boilings  of  the  pot !  For  it  must  be  a 
considerable  time  before  English  people  can  be 
brought  to  eat  potatoes  in-  the  Irish  style ;  that  is  to 
say,  scratch  them  out  of  the  earth  with  their  paws, 
toss  them  into  a  pot  without  washing,  and  when  boil- 
ed, turn  them  out  upon  a  dirty  board,  and  then  sit 
round  that  board,  peel  the  skin  and  dirt  from  one  at  a 
time  and  eat  the  inside.  Mr.  Curwen  was  delighted 
with  "  Irish  hospitality"  because  the  people  there  re- 
ceive no  parish  relief;  upon  which  I  can  only  say,  that 
I  wish  him  the  exclusive  benefit  of  such  hospitality. 

80.  I  have  here  spoken  of  a  large  quantity  of  each 
of  the  sorts  of  food.  I  will  now  come  to  a  compa- 
rative view,  more  immediately  applicable  to  a  labour- 
er's family.  When  wheat  is  ten  shillings  the  bushel, 
potatoes,  bought  at  best  hand,  (I  am  speaking  of  the 
country  generally,)  are  about  two  shillings  (English) 
a  bushel.  Last  spring  the  average  price  of  wheat 
might  be  six  and  sixpence,  (English  ;)  and  the  ave- 
rage price  of  potatoes  (in  small  quantities)  was  about 
eighteen-pence ;  though,  by  the  wagon-load,  I  saw 
potatoes  bought  at  a  shilling  (English)  a  bushel,  to 
give  to  sheep;  then,  observe,  these  were  of  the 
coarsest  kind,  and  the  farmer  had  to  fetch  them  at  a 
considerable  expense.  I  think,  therefore,  that  I  give 
the  advantage  to  the  potatoes  when  I  say  that  they 


44  MAKING   BREAD.  [No. 

sell,  upon  an  average,  for  full  a  fifth  part  as  much  as 
the  wheat  sells  for,  per  bushel,  while  they  contain 
four  pounds  less  weight  than  the  bushel  of  wheat ; 
while  they  yield  only  five  pounds  and  a  half  of  nu- 
tritious matter  equal  to  bread  ;  and  while  the  bushel 
of  wheat  will  yield  sixty-five  pounds  of  bread,  be- 
sides the  ten  pounds  of  bran.  Hence  it  is  clear, 
that,  instead  of  that  saving,  which  is  everlastingly 
dinned  in  our  ears,  from  the  use  of  potatoes,  there  is 
a  waste  of  more  than  one  half ;  seeing  that,  when 
wheat  is  ten  shillings  (English)  the  bushel,  you  can 
have  sixty-five  pounds  of  bread  for  the  ten  shillings  ; 
and  can  have  out  of  potatoes  only  five  pounds  and  a 
half  of  nutritious  matter  equal  to  bread  for  two  shil- 
lings !  (English.)  This  being  the  case,  I  trust  that  we 
shall  soon  hear  no  more  of  those  savings  which  the 
labourer  makes  by  the  use  of  potatoes ;  I  hope  we 
shall,  in  the  words  of  Dr.  DRENNAN,  "  leave  Ire- 
land to  her  lazy  root,"  if  she  choose  still  to  adhere 
to  it.  It  is  the  root,  also,  of  slovenliness,  filth,  mi- 
sery, and  slavery  ;  its  cultivation  has  increased  in 
England  with  the  increase  of  the  paupers  :  both,  I 
thank  God,  are  upon  the  decline.  Englishmen  seem 
to  be  upon  the  return  to  beer  and  bread,  from  water 
and  potatoes  :  and,  therefore,  I  shall  now  proceed  to 
offer  some  observations  to  the  cottager,  calculated  to 
induce  him  to  bake  his  own  bread. 

81.  As  I  have  before  stated,  sixty  pounds  of  wheat, 
that  is  to  say,  where  the  Winchester  bushel  weighs 
sixty  pounds,  will  make  sixty-five  pounds  of  bread, 
besides  the  leaving  of  about  ten  pounds  of  bran. 
This  is  household  bread,  made  of  flour  from  which 
the  bran  only  is  taken.  If  you  make  fine  flour,  you 
take  out  pollard,  as  they  call  it,  as  well  as  bran,  and 
then  you  have  a  smaller  quantity  of  bread  and  a 
greater  quantity  of  offal;  but,  even  of  this  finer 
bread,  bread  equal  in  fineness  to  the  baker's  bread, 
you  get  from  Jifty-eight  to  fifty-nine  pounds  out  of 
the  bushel  of  wheat.  Now,  then,  let  us  see  how 
many  quartern  loaves  you  get  out  of  the  bushel  of 
wheat,  supposing  it  to  be  fine  flour,  in  the  first  place. 


III.]  MAKING    BREAD.  45 

You  get  thirteen  quartern  loaves  and  a  half;  these 
cost  you,  at  the  present  average  price  of  wheat 
(seven  and  sixpence  a  bushel,)  in  the  first  place  7s. 
6d.  ;*  then  3d.  for  yeast ;  then  not  more  than  3d.  for 
grind  ingj  because  you  have  about  thirteen  pounds 
of  offal,  'which  is  worth  more  than  a  $d.  a  pound, 
while  the  grinding  is  9d.  a  bushel.  Thus,  then,  the 
bushelof  bread  of  fifty-nine  pounds  costs  you  eight 
shillings ;  and  it  yields  you  the  weight  of  thirteen 
and  a  half  quartern  loaves  :  these  quartern  loaves 
now  (Dec.  1821)  sell  at  Kensington,  at  the  baker's 
shop,  at  Is.  ^d. ;  that  is  to  say,  the  thirteen  quartern 
loaves  and  a  half  cost  14s.  7-J-d  I  omitted  to  mention 
the  salt,  which  would  cost  you  4d.  more.  So  that, 
here  is  6s.  3$d.  saved  upon  the  baking  of  a  bushel 
of  bread.  The  baker's  quartern  loaf  is  indeed 
cheaper  in  the  country  than  at  Kensington,  by;  pro- 
bably, a  penny  in  the  loaf ;  which  would  still,  how- 
ever, leave  a  saving  of  5s.  upon  the  bushel  of  bread. 
But,  besides  this,  pray  think  a  little  of  the  materials 
of  which  the  baker's,  loaf  is  composed.  The  alum, 
the  ground  potatoes,  and  other  materials  ;  it  being  a 
notorious  fact,  that  the  bakers,  in  London  at  least, 
have  mills  wherein  to  grind  their  potatoes  ;  so  large 
is  the  scale  upon  which  they  use  that  material.  It 
is  probable,  that,  but  of  a  bushel  of  wheat,  they 
make  between  sixty  and  seventy  pounds  of  bread, 
though  they  have  no  more  flour,  and,  of  course,  no 
more  nutritious  matter,  than  you  have  in  your  fifty- 
nine  pounds  of  bread.  But,  at  the  least,  supposing 
their  bread  to  be  as  good  as  yours  in  quality,  you 
have,  allowing  a  shilling  for  the  heating  of  the  oven, 
a  clear  4s.  saved  upon  every  bushel  of  bread.  If 
you  consume  half  a  bushel  a  week,  that  is  to  say 
about  a  quartern  loaf  a  day,  this  is  a  saving  of  51. 
4s.  a  year,  or  full  a  sixth  part,  if  not  a  fifth  part,  of 
the  earnings  of  a  labourer  in  husbandry. 

82.  How  wasteful,  then,  and,  indeed,  how  shame- 

*  All  the  calculations  in  this  work,  it  must  be  remembered,  are  m 
English  money  but  may  be  turned  into  United  States'  money  as  before 
directed,  page  16. 


46  MAKING   BREAD*  [No. 

ful,  for  a  labourer's  wife  to  go  to  the  baker's  shop;  and 
how  negligent,  how  criminally  careless  of  the  wel- 
fare of  his  family,  must  the  labourer  be,  who  per- 
mits so  scandalous  a  use  of  the  proceeds  of  his 
labour !  But  I  have  hitherto  taken  a  view  of  the 
matter  the  least  possibly  advantageous  to  the  home- 
baked  bread.  For,  ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hun- 
dred, the  fuel  for  heating  the  oven  costs  very  little. 
The  hedgers,  the  copsers,  the  woodmen  of  all  de- 
scriptions, have  fuel  for  little  or  nothing.  At  any 
rate,  to  heat  the  oven  cannot,  upon  an  average,  take 
the  country  through,  cost  the  labourer  more  than  6d. 
a  bushel.  Then,  again,  fine  flour  need  not  ever  be 
used,  and  ought  not  to  be  -used.  This  adds  six 
pounds  of  bread  to  the  bushel,  or  nearly  another  quar- 
tern loaf  and  a  half,  making  nearly  fifteen  quartern 
loaves  but  of  the  bushel  of  wheat.  The  finest  flour 
is  by  no  means  the  most  wholesome ;  and,  at  any 
rate,  there  is  more  nutritious  matter  in  a  pound  of 
household  bread  than  in  a  pound  of  baker's  bread. 
Besides  this,  rye,  and  even  barley,  especially  when 
•mixed  with  wheat,  make  very  good  bread.  Few  peo- 
ple upon  the  face  of  the  earth  live  better  than  the 
Long  Islanders.  Yet  nine  families  out  of  ten  sel- 
dom eat  wheaten-bread.  Rye  is  the  flour  that  they 
principally  make  use  of.  Now,  rye  is  seldom  more 
than  two-thirds  the  price  of  wheat,  and  barley  is 
seldom  more  than  half  the  price  of  wheat.  Half 
rye  and  half  wheat,  taking  out  a  little  more  of  the 
offal,  make  very  good  bread.  Half  wheat,  a  quarter 
rye  and  a  quarter  barley,  nay,  one-third  of  each, 
make  bread  that  I  could  be  very  well  content  to  live 
upon  all  my  lifetime;  and,  even  barley  alone,  if  the 
barley  be  good,  and  none  but  the  finest  flour  taken 
out  of  it,  has  in  it,  measure  for  measure,  ten  times 
the  nutrition  of  potatoes.  Indeed  the  fact  is  well 
known,  that  our .  forefathers  used  barley  bread  to  a 
very  great  extent.  Its  only  fault,  with  those  who 
dislike  it,  is  its  sweetness,  a  fault  which  we  certainly 
have  not  to  find  with  the  baker's  loaf,  which  has  in 
it  little  more  of  the  sweetness  of  grain  than  is  to  be 


III.]  MAKING    BREAD.  47 

found  in  the  offal  which  comes  from  the  sawings  of 
deal  boards.  The  nutritious  nature  of  barley  is 
amply  proved  by  the  effect,  and  very  rapid  effect,  of 
its  meal,  in  the  fatting  of  hogs  and  of  poultry  of  all 
descriptions.  They  will  fatten  quicker  upon  meal  of 
barley  than  upon  any  other  thing..  The  flesh,  too, 
is  sweeter  than  that  proceeding  from  any  other  food, 
with  the  exception  of  that  which  proceeds  from  buck 
wheat,  a  grain  little  used  in  England.  That  pro- 
ceeding from  Indian  corn  is,  indeed,  still  sweeter 
and  finer;  but  this  is  wholly  out  of  the  question 
with  us. 

83,  I  am,  by-and-by,  to  speak  of  the  cow  to  be  kept 
by  the  labourer  in  husbandry.  Then  there  will  be 
milk  to  wet  the  bread  with,  an  exceedingly  great 
improvement  in  its  taste  as  well  as  in  its  quality ! 
This,  of  all  the  ways  of  using  skim  milk,  is  the  most 
advantageous  :  and  this  great  advantage  must  be 
wholly  thrown  away,  if  the  bread  of  the  family  be 
bought  at  the  shop. .  With  milk,  bread  with  very  lit- 
.  tie  wheat  in  it  may  be  made  far  better  than  baker's 
bread ;  and,  leaving  the  milk  out  of  the  question, 
taking  a  third  of  each  sort  of  grain,  you  would  get 
bread  weighing  as  much  as  fourteen  quartern  loaves, 
for  about  5s.  9d.  at  present  prices  of  grain  ;  that  is  to 
say,  you  would  get  it  for  about  5d.  the  quartern  loaf, 
all  expenses  included;  thus  you  have  nine  pounds  and 
ten  ounces  of  bread  a  day  for  about  5s.  9d.  a  week. 
Here  is  enough  for  a  very  large  family.  Very  few 
labourers'  families  can  want  so  much  as  this,  unless 
indeed  there  be  several  persons  in  it  capable  of  earn- 
ing something  by  their  daily  labour.  Here  is  cut  and 
come  again.  Here  is  bread  always  for  the  table. 
Bread  to  carry  a  field;  always  a  hunch  of  bread 
ready  to  put  into  the  hand  of  a  hungry  child.  We 
hear  a  great  deal  about  "  children  crying  for  bread," 
and  objects  of  compassion  they  and  their  parents  are, 
when  the  latter  have  not  the  means  of  obtaining  a 
sufficiency  of  bread.  But  I  should  be  glad  to  be  in- 
formed, how  it  is  possible  for  a  labouring  man,  who 
earns,  upon  an  average,  1O.  a  week,  who  has  not 


48  MAKING  BREAD.  [No. 

more  than  four  children  (and  if  he  have  more,  some 
ought  to  be  doing  something;)  who  has  a  garden  of 
a  quarter  of  an  acre  of  land  (for  that  makes  part  of 
my  plan  ;  who  has  a  wife  as  industrious  as  she  ought 
to  be  ;  who  does  not  waste  his  earnings  at  the  ale- 
house or  the  tea  shop :  I  should  be  glad  to  know  how 
such  a  man,  while  wheat  shall  be  at  the  price  of 
about  6s.  a  bushel,  can  possibly  have  children  crying 
for  bread  ! 

84.  Cry,  indeed,  they  must,  if  he  will  persist  in 

fiving  135.  for  a  bushel  of  bread  instead  of  5s.  9d. 
uch  a  man.  is  not  to  say  that  the  bread  which  I  have 
described  is  not  good  enough.  It  was  .good  enough  for 
his  forefathers,  who  were  too  proud  to  be  paupers, 
that  is  to  say,  abject  and  willing  slaves.  "  Hogs  eat 
barley."  And  hogs  will  eat  wheat,  too,  when  they 
can  get  at  it.  Convicts  in  condemned  cells  eat 
wheaten  bread ;  bat  we  think  it  no  degradation  to 
eat  wheaten  bread,  too.  I  am  for  depriving  the  la- 
bourer of  none  of  his  rights;  I  would  have  him 
oppressed  in  no  manner  or  shape  ;  I  would  have  him 
bold  and  free  ;  but  to  have  him  such,  he  must  have 
bread  in  his  house,  sufficient  for  all  his  family,  and 
whether  that  bread  be  fine  or  coarse  must  depend 
upon  the  different  circumstances  which  present  them- 
selves in  the  cases  of  different  individuals. 

85.  The  married  man  has  no  right  to  expect  the 
same  plenty  of  food  and  of  raiment  that  the  single 
man  has.     The  time  before  marriage  is  the  time  to 
lay  by,  or,  if  the  party  choose,  to  indulge  himself  in 
the  absence  of  labour.     To  marry  is  a  voluntary  act, 
and  it  is  attended  in  the  result  with  great  pleasures 
and  advantages.     If,  therefore,  the  laws  be  fair  and 
equal ;  if  the  state  of  things  be  such  that  a  labouring 
man  can,  with  the  usual  ability  of  labourers,  and  with 
constant  industry,  care  and  sobriety  ;  with  decency 
of  deportment  towards  all  his  neighbours,  cheerful 
obedience  to  his  employer,  and  a  due  subordination 
to  the  laws  ;  if  the  state  of  things  be  such,  that  such 
a  man's  earnings  be  sufficient  to  maintain  himself 
and  family  with  food,  raiment,  and  lodging  needful 


III.]  MAKING  BREAD.  49 

for  them ;  such  a  man  has  no  reason  to  complain ; 
and  no  labouring  man  has  reason  to  complain,  if  the 
numerousness  of  his  family  should  call  upon  him  for 
extraordinary  exertion,  or  for  frugality  uncommonly 
rigid.  The  man  with  a  large  family  has,  if  it  be  not 
in  a  great  measure  his  own  fault,  a  greater  number  of 
pleasures  and  of  blessings  than  other  men.  If  he  be 
wise,  and  just  as  well  as  wise,  he  will  see  that  it  is 
reasonable  for  him  to  expect  less  delicate  fare  than 
his  neighbours,  who  have  a  less  number  of  children, 
or  no  children  at  all.  He  will  see  the  justice  as  well 
as  the  necessity  of  his  resorting  to  the  use  of  coarser 
bread,  and  thus  endeavour  to  make  up  that,  or  at  least 
a  part  of  that,  which  he  loses  in  comparison  with  his 
neighbours.  The  quality  of  the  bread  ought,  in  every 
case,  to  be  proportioned  to  the  number  of  the  family 
and  the  means  of  the  head  of  that  family.  Here  is 
no  injury  to  health  proposed ;  but,  on  the  contrary, 
the  best  security  for  its  preservation.  Without  bread, 
all  is  misery.  The  Scripture  truly  calls  it  the  staff 
of  life  ;  and  it  may  be  called,  too,  the  pledge  of  peace 
and  happiness  in  the  labourer's  dwelling. 

86.  As  to  the  act  of  making  bread,  it  would  be 
shocking  indeed  if  that  had  to  be  taught  by  the  means 
of  books.  Every  woman,  high  or  low,  ought  to  know 
how  to  make  bread.  If  she  do  not,  she  is  unworthy 
of  trust  and  confidence ;  and,  indeed,  a  mere  burden 
upon  the  community.  Yet,  it  is  but  too  true,  that 
many  women,  even  amongst  those  who  have  to  get 
their  living  by  their  labour,  know  nothing  of  the 
making  of  bread  ;  and  seem  to  understand  little  more 
about  it  than  the  part  which  belongs  to  its  consump- 
tion. A  Frenchman,  a  Mr.  CUSAR,  who  had  been 
born  in  the  West  Indies,  told  me,  that  till  he  came 
to  Long  Island,  he  never  knew  Iww  the  flour  came: 
that  he  was  surprised  when  he  learnt  that  it  was 
squeezed  out  of  little  grains  that  grew  at  the  tops  of 
straw ;  for  that  he  had  always  had  an  idea  that  it  was 
got  out  of  some  large  substances,  like  the  yams  that 
grow  in  tropical  climates.  He  was  a  very  sincere 
and  good  man,  and  I  am  sure  he  told  me  truth.  And 
5 


50  MAKING  BREAD.  [No. 

this  may  be  the  more  readily  believed,  when  we  see 
so  many  women  in  England,  who  seem  to  know  no 
more  of  the  constituent  parts  of  a  loaf  than  they 
know  of  those  of  the  moon.  Servant  women  in 
abundance  appear  to  think  that  loaves  are  made  by 
the  baker,  as  knights  are  made  by  the  king ;  things 
of  their  pure  creation,  a  creation,  too,  in  which  no  one 
else  can  participate.  Now,  is  not  this  an  enormous 
evil  ?  And  whence  does  it  come  ?  Servant  women 
are  the  children  of  the  labouring  classes ;  and  they 
would  all  know  how  to  make  bread,  and  know  well 
how  to  make  it  too,  if  they  had  been  fed  on  bread  of 
their  mother's  and  their  own  making. 

87.  How  serious  a  matter,  then,  is  this,  even  in 
this  point  of  view!     A    servant  that  cannot  make 
bread  is  not  entitled  to  the  same  wages  as  one  that 
can.     If  she  can  neither  bake  nor  brew ;  if  she  be 
ignorant  of  the  nature  of  flour,  yeast,  malt,  and  hops, 
what  is  she  good  for  ?     If  she  understand  these  mat- 
ters well ;  if  she  be  able  to  supply  her  employer  with 
bread  and  with  beer,  she  is  really  valuable ;  she  is 
entitled  to  good  wages,  and   to   consideration   and 
respect  into  the  bargain;  but  if  she  be  wholly  de- 
ficient in  these  particulars,  and  can  merely  dawdle 
about  with  a  bucket  and  a  broom,  she  can  be  of  very 
little  consequence ;  to  lose  her,  is  merely  to  lose  a 
consumer  of  food,  and  she  can  expect  very  little  in- 
deed in  the  way  of  desire  to  make  her  life  easy  and 
pleasant.     Why  should  any  one  have  such  desire  ? 
She  is  not  a  child  of  the  family.     She  is  not  a  rela- 
tion.    Any  one  as  well  as  she  can  take  in  a  loaf  from 
the  baker,  or  a  barrel  of  beer  from  the  brewer.     She 
has  nothing  whereby  to  bind  her  employer  to  her. 
To  sweep  a  room  any  thing  is  capable  of  that  has  got 
two  hands.     In  short,  she  has  no  useful  skill,  no  use- 
ful ability;  she  is  an  ordinary  drudge,  and  she  is 
treated  accordingly. 

88.  But,  if  such  be  her  state  in  the  house  of  an 
employer,  what  is  her  state  in  the  house  of  a  hus- 
band?    The  lover  is  blind;  but  the  husband  has 
eyes  to  see  with.     He  soon  discovers  that  there  is 


III.]  MAKING    BREAD,  51 

something  wanted  besides  dimples  and  cherry  cheeks ; 
and  I  would  have  fathers  seriously  reflect,  and  to  be 
well  assured,  that  the  way  to  mate  their  daughters 
to  be  long  admired,  beloved  and  respected  by  their 
husbands,  is  to  make  them  skilful,  able  and  active  in 
the  most  necessary  concerns  of  a  family.  Eating 
and  drinking  come  three  times  every  day ;  the  pre- 
parations for  these,  and  all  the  ministry  necessary  to 
them,  belong  to  the  wife ;  and  I  hold  it  to  be  impos- 
sible, that  at  the  end  of  two  years,  a  really  ignorant, 
sluttish  wife  should  possess  any  thing  worthy  of  the 
name  of  love  from  her  husband.  This,  therefore,  is 
a  matter  of  far  greater  moment  to  the  father  of  a 
family,  than,  whether  the  Parson  of  the  parish,  or  the 
Methodist  Priest,  be  the  most  "Evangelical"  of 
the  two ;  for  it  is  here  a  question  of  the  daughter's 
happiness  or  misery  for  life.  And  I  have  no  hesita- 
tion to  say,  that  if  I  were  a  labouring  man,  I  should 
prefer  teaching  my  daughters  to  bake,  brew,  milk, 
make  butter  and  cheese,  to  teaching  them  to  read  the 
Bible  till  they  had  got  every  word  of  it  by  heart; 
and  I  should  think,  too,  nay  I  should  know,  that  I  was 
in  the  former  case  doing  my  duty  towards  God  as  well 
as  towards  my  children. 

89.  When  we  see  a  family  of  dirty,  ragged  little 
creatures,  let  us  inquire  into  the  cause ;  and  ninety- 
nine  times  out  of  every  hundred  we  shall  find  that 
the  parents  themselves  have  been  brought  up  in  the 
same  way.  But  a  consideration  which  ought  of  it- 
self to  be  sufficient,  is  the  contempt  in  which  a  hus- 
band will  naturally  hold  a  wife  that  is  ignorant  of  the 
matters  necessary  to  the  conducting  of  a  family.  A 
woman  who  understands  all  the  things  above  men- 
tioned, is  really  a  skilful  person;  a  person  whorthy  of 
respect,  and  that  will  be  treated  with  respect  too,  by 
all  but  brutish  employers  or  brutish  husbands ;  and 
such,  though  sometimes,  are  not  very  frequently 
found.  Besides,  if  natural  justice  and  our  own  in- 
terest had  not  the  weight  which  they  have,  such 
valuable  persons  will  be  treated  with  respect.  They 
know  their  own  worth ;  and,  accordingly,  they  are 


52  MAKING   BREAD.  [No. 

more  careful  of  their  character,  more  careful  not  to 
lessen  by  misconduct  the  value  which  they  possess 
from  their  skill  and  ability. 

90.  Thus,  then,  the  interest  of  the  labourer;  his 
health  ;  the  health  of  his  family ;  the  peace  and  hap- 
piness of  his  home ;  the  prospects  of  his  children 
through  life;  their  skill,  their  ability,  their  habits  of 
cleanliness,  and  even  their  moral  deportment ;    all 
combine  to  press  upon  him  the  adoption  and  the 
constant  practice  of  this  branch  of  domestic  econo- 
my.   "  Can  she  bake  ?"  is  the  question  that  I  always 
put.     If  she  can,  she  is  worth  a  pound  or  two  a  year 
more.  Is  that  nothing'  ?   Is  it  nothing  for  a  labouring 
man  to  make  his  four  or  five  daughters  worth  eight 
or  ten  pounds  a  year  more;  and  that  too  while  he  is 
by  the  same  means  providing  the  more  plentifully  for 
himself  and  the  rest  of  his  family?     The  reasons  on 
the  side  of  the  thing  that  I  contend  for  are  endless  ; 
but  if  this  one  motive  be  not  sufficient,  I  am  sure,  all 
that  I  have  said,  and  all  that  I  could  say,  must  be 
wholly  unavailing. 

91.  Before,  however,  I  dismiss  this  subject,  let  me 
say  a  word  or  two  to  those  persons  who  do  not  come 
under  the  denomination  of  labourers.   In  London,  or 
in  any  very  large  town  where  the  space  is  so  confin- 
ed, and  where  the  proper  fuel  is  not  handily  to  be 
come  at  and  stored  for  use,  to  bake  your  own  bread 
may  be  attended  with  too  much  difficulty  ;  but  in  all 
other  situations  there  appears  to  me  to  be  hardly  any 
excuse  for  not  baking  bread  at  home.     If  the  family 
consist  of  twelve  or  fourteen  persons,  the  money  ac- 
tually saved    in  this  way  (even  at  present  prices) 
would  be  little  short  of  from  twenty  to  thirty  pounds 
a  year.     At  the  utmost  here  is  only  the  time  of  one 
woman  occupied  one  day  in  the  week.     Now  mind, 
here  are  twenty-five  pounds  to  be  employed  in  some 
way  different  from  that  of  giving  it  to  the  baker.   If 
you  add  five  of  these  pounds  to  a  woman's  wages,  is 
not  that  full  as  well  employed  as  giving  it  in  wages 
to  the  baker's  men  ?     Is  it  not  better  employed  for 
you  ?  and  is  it  not  better  employed  for  the  commu- 


III.]  MAKING    BREAD.  53 

irity  ?  It  is  very  certain,  that  if  the  practice  were  as 
prevalent  as  I  could  wish,  there  would  be  a  large  de- 
duction from  the  regular  baking  population;  but 
would  there  be  any  harm  if  less  alum  were  imported 
into  England,  and  if  some  of  those  youths  were  left 
at  the  plough,  who  are  now  bound  in  apprenticeships 
to  learn  the  art  and  mystery  of  doing  that  which 
every  girl  in  the  kingdom  ought  to  be  taught  to  do 
by  her  mother  ?  It  ought  to  be  a  maxim  with  every 
master  and  every  mistress,  never  to  employ  another 
to  do  that  which  can  be  done  as  well  by  their  own 
servants.  The  more  of  their  money  that  is  retained 
in  the  hands  of  their  own  people,  the  better  it  is  for 
them  altogether.  Besides,  a  man  of  a  right  mind 
must  be  pleased  with  the  reflection,  that  there  is  a 
great  mass  of  skill  and  ability  under  his  own  roof. 
He  feels  stronger  and  more  independent  on  this  ac- 
count, all  pecuniary  advantage  out  of  the  question. 
It  is  impossible  to  conceive  any  thing  more  contemp- 
tible than  a  crowd  of  men  and  women  living  together 
in  a  house,  and  constantly  looking  out  of  it  for  peo- 
ple to  bring  them  food  and  drink,  and  to  fetch*  their 
garments  to  and  fro.  Such  a  crowd  resemble  a  nest 
of  unfledged  birds,  absolutely  dependent  for  their 
very  existence  on  the  activity  and  success  of  the  old 
ones. 

92.  Yet,  on  men  go,  from  year  to  year,  in  this  state 
of  wretched  dependence,  even  when  they  have  all 
the  means  of  living  within  themselves,  which  is  cer- 
tainly the  happiest  state  of  life  that  any  one  can  en- 
joy. It  may  be  asked,  Where  is  the  mill  to  be  found? 
where  is   the  wheat  to  be  got  ?     The  answer  is, 
Where  is  there  not  a  mill  ?  where  is  there  not.  a 
market  ?     They  are  every  where,  and  the  difficulty 
is  to  discover  what  can  be  the  particular  attractions 
contained  in  that  long  and  luminous  manuscript,  a 
baker's  half-yearly  bill. 

93.  With  regard  to  the  mill,  in  speaking  of  fami- 
lies of  any  considerable  number  of  persons,  the  mill 
has,  with  me,  been  more  than  once  a  subject  of  obser- 
vation in  print.     I  for  a  good  while  experienced  the 

5* 


54  MAKING  BREAD.  [No. 

great  inconvenience  and  expense  of  sending  my 
wheat  and  other  grain  to  be  ground  at  a  mill,  This 
expense,  in  case  of  a  considerable  family,  living  at 
only  a  mile  from  a  mill,  is  something  ;  but  the  incon- 
veniency'  and  uncertainty  are  great.  In  my  "  Year's 
Residence  in  America,"  from  Paragraphs  1031  and 
onwards,  I  give  an  account  of  a* horse-mill  which  I 
had  in  my  farm  yard ;  and  I  showed,  I  think  very 
clearly,  that  corn  could  be  ground  cheaper  in  this 
way  than  by  wind  or  water,  and  that  it  would  an- 
swer well  to  grind  for  sale  in  this  way  as  well  as  for 
home  use.  Since  my  return  to  England  I  have  seen 
a  mill,  erected  in  consequence  of  what  the  owner  had 
read  in  my  book.  This  mill  belongs  to  a  small  far- 
mer, who,  when  he  cannot  work  on  his  land  with  his 
horses,  or  in  the  season  when  he  has  little  for  them 
to  do,  grinds  wheat,  sells  the  flour ;  and  he  takes  in 
grists  to  grind,  as  other  millers  do.  This  mill  goes 
with  three  small  horses ;  but  what  I  would  recom- 
mend to  gentlemen  with  considerable  families,  or  to 
farmers,  is  a  mill  such  as  I  myself  have  at  present. 

94.' With  this  mill,  turned  by  a  man  and  a  stout 
boy,  I  can  grind  six  bushels  of  wheat  in  a  day  and 
dress  the  flour.  The  grinding  of  six  bushels  of  wheat 
at  ninepence  a  bushel  comes  to  four  and  sixpence, 
which  pays  the  man  and  the  boy,  supposing  them 
f  which  is  not  and  seldom  can  be  the  case)  to  be  hired 
lor  the  express  purpose  out  of  the  street.  With  the 
same  mill  you  grind  meat  for  your  pigs;  and  of  this 
you  will  get  eight  or  ten  bushels  ground  in  a  day. 
You  have  no  trouble  about  sending  to  the  mill;  you 
are  sure  to  have  your  own  wheat ;  for  strange  as  it 
may  seem,  I  used  sometimes  to  find  that  I  sent  white 
Essex  wheat  to  the  mill,  and  that  it  brought  me  flour 
from  very  coarse  red  wheat.  There  is  no  accounting 
for  this,  except  by  supposing  that  wind  and  water 
power  has  something  in  it  to  change  the  very  nature 
of  the  grain ;  as,  when  I  came  to  grind  by  .horses, 
such  as  the  wheat  went  into  the  hopper,  so  the  flour 
came  out  into  the  bin. 

95.  But  mine  now  is  only  on  the  petty  scale  of 


III.]  MAKING  BREAD.  55 

providing  for  a  dozen  of  persons  and  a  small  lot  of 
pigs.  For  a  farm-house,  or  a  gentleman's  house  in 
the  country,  where  there  would  be  room  to  have  a 
walk  for  a  horse,  you  might  take  the  labour  from  the 
men,  clap  any  little  horse,  pony,  or  even  ass  to  the 
wheel ;  and  he  would  grind  you  off  eight  or  ten 
bushels  of  wheat  in  a  day,  and  both  he  and  you 
would  have  the  thanks  of  your  men  into  the  bargain. 
96.  The  cost  of  this  mill  is  twenty  pounds.  The 
dresser  is  four  more  ;  the  horse-path  and  wheel  might, 
possibly,  be  four  or  five  more;  and,  I  am  very  cer- 
tain, that  to  any  farmer  living  at  a  mile  from  a  mill, 
(and  that  is  less  than  the  average  distance  perhaps ;) 
having  twelve  persons  in  family,  having  forty  pigs  to 
feed,  and  twenty  hogs  to  fatten,  the  savings  of  such 
a  mill  would  pay  the  whole  expenses  of  it  the  very 
first  year.  Such  a  farmer  cannot  send  less  than  fifty 
times  a  year  to  the  mill.  Think  of  that,  in  the  first 
place  !  The  elements  are  not  always  propitious  : 
sometimes  the  water  fails,  and  sometimes  the  wind. 
Many  a  farmer's  wife  has  been  tempted  to  vent -her 
spleen  on  both.  At  best,  there  must  be  horse  and 
man,  or  boy,  and,  perhaps,  cart,  to  go  to  the  mill ; 
and  that,  too,  observe,  in  all  weathers,  and  in  the 
harvest  as  well  as  at  other  times  of  the  year.  The 
case  is  one  of  imperious  necessity  :  neither  floods 
nor  droughts,  nor  storms  nor  calms,  will  allay  the 
craving's  of  the  kitchen,  nor  quiet  the  clamorous  up- 
roar of  the  stye.  Go,  somebody  must,  to  some  place 
or  other,  and  back  they  .must  come  with  flour  and 
with  meal.  One  summer  many  persons  came  down 
the  country  more  than  fifty  miles  to  a  mill  that  I 
knew  in  Pennsylvania ;  and  I  have  known  farmers 
in  England  carry  their  grists  more  than  fifteen  miles 
to  be  ground.  It  is  surprising,  that,  under  these  cir- 
cumstances, hand-mills  and  horse-mills  should  not, 
long  ago,  have  become  of  more  general  use ;  espe- 
cially when  one  considers  that  the  labour,  in  this 
case,  would  cost  the  farmer  next  to  nothing.  To 
grind  would  be  the  work  of  a  wet  day.  There  is  no 
farmer  who  does  not  at  least  fifty  days  in  every  year 


56  MAKING  BREAD.  [No. 

exclaim,  when  he  gets  up  in  the  morning,  "  What 
shall  I  set  them  at  to-day?"  If  he  had  a  mill,  he 
would  make  them  pull  off  their  shoes,  sweep  all  out 
clean,  winnow  up  some  corn,  if  he  had  it  not  already 
done,  and  grind  and  dress,  and  have  every  thing  in 
order.  No  scolding  within  doors  about  the  grist ;  no 
squeaking  in  the  stye  ;  no  boy  sent  off  in  the  rain  to 
the  mill. 

97.  But  there  is  one  advantage  which  I  have  not 
yet  mentioned,    and  which   is  the  greatest  of  all; 
namely,  that  you  would  have  the  power  of  supplying 
your    married    labourers ;    your   blacksmith's    men 
sometimes  ;  your  wheelwright's  men  at  other  times ; 
and,  indeed,  the  greater  part  of  the  persons  that  you 
employed,  with  good  flour,  instead  of  their  going  to 
purchase  their  flour,  after  it  had  passed  through  the 
hands  of  a  Corn  Merchant,  a  Miller,  a  Flour  Mer^- 
chant,  and  a  Huckster,  every  one  of  whom  does  and 
must  have  a  profit  out  of  the  flour,  arising  from  wheat 

frown  upon,  and  sent  away  from,  your  very  farm  ! 
used  to  let  all  my  people  have  flour  at  the  same 
price  that  they  would  otherwise  have  been  compelled 
to  give  for  worse  flour.  Every  Farmer  will  under- 
stand me  when  I  say,  that  he  ought  to  pay  for  nothing 
in  money,  which  he  can  pay  for  in  any  thing  but 
money.  His  maxim  is  to  keep  the  money  that  he 
takes  as  long  as  he  can.  Now  here  is  a  most  effectual 
way  of  putting  that  maxim  in  practice  to  a,  very  great 
extent.  Farmers  know  well  that  it  is  the  Saturday 
night  which  empties  their  .pockets  ;  and  here  is  the 
means  of  cutting  off  a  good  half  of  the  Saturday 
night.  The  men  have  better  flour  for  the  same  mo- 
ney, and  still  the  farmer  keeps  at  home  those  profits 
which  would  go  to  the  maintaining  of  the  dealers  in 
wheat  and  in  flour. 

98.  The  maker  of  my  little  mill  is  Mr.  HILL,  of 
Oxford-street.     The  expense  is  what  I  have  stated 
it  to  be.     I,  with  my  small  establishment,  find  the 
thing  convenient  and  advantageous  ;  what  then  must 
it  be  to  a  gentleman  in  the  country  who  has  room 
and  horses,  and  a  considerable  family  to  provide  for? 


III.]  MAKING  BREAD.  57 

The  dresser  is  so  contrived  as  to  give  you  at  once, 
meal,  of  four  degrees  of  fineness ; .  so  that,  for  cer- 
tain purposes,  you  may  take  the  very  finest ;  and,  in- 
deed, you  may  have  your  flour,  and  your  bread  of 
course,  of  what  degree  of  fineness  you  please.  But 
there  is  also  a  steel  mill,  much,  less  expensive,  re- 
quiring less  labour,  and  yet  quite  sufficient  for  a 
family.  Mills  of  this  sort,  very  good,  and  at  a  rea- 
sonable price,  are  to  be  had  of  Mr.  PARKES,  in  Fen- 
church-street,  London.  These  are  very  complete 
things  of  their  kind.  Mr.  PARKES  has,  also,  excellent 
Malt-Mills. 

99.  In  concluding  this  part  of  my  Treatise,  I  can- 
not help  expressing  my  hope  of  being  instrumental 
in  inducing  a  part  of  the  labourers,  at  any  rate,  to 
bake  their  own  bread  ;  and,  above  all  things,  to  aban- 
don the  use  of  "  Ireland's  lazy  root."  Nevertheless, 
so  extensive  is  the  erroneous  opinion  relative  to  this 
yillanous  root,  that  I  really  began  to  despair  of  check- 
ing its  cultivation  and  use,  till  I  saw  the  declaration 
which  Mr.  WAKEFIELD  had  the  good  sense  and  the  spirit 
to  make  before  the  "  AGRICULTURAL  COMMITTEE."  Be 
it  observed,  too,  that  Mr.  WAKEFIELD  had  himself  made 
a  survey  of  the  state  of  Ireland.  What  he  saw  there 
did  not  encourage  him,  doubtless,  to  be  an  advocate  for 
the  growing  of  this  root  of  wretchedness.  It  is  an 
undeniable  fact,  that,  in  the  proportion  that  this  root 
is  in  use,  as  a  substitute  for  bread,  the  people  are 
wretched  ;  the  reasons  for  which  I  have  explained 
and  enforced  a  hundred  times  over.  Mr.  WILLIAM 
HANNING  tuld  the  Committee  that  the  labourers  in 
his  part  of  Somersetshire  were  "  almost  wholly  sup- 
plied with  potatoes,  breakfast  and  dinner,  brought 
them  in  the  fields,  and  nothing  but  potatoes  ;  and  that 
they  used,  in  better  timesj  to  get  a  certain  portion  of 
bacon  and  cheese,  which,  on  account  of  their  "  pover- 
ty, they  do  not  eat  now."  It  is  impossible  that  men 
can  be  contented  in  such  a  state  of  things :  it  is  un- 
just to  desire  them  to  be  contented :  it  is  a  state  of 
misery  and  degradation  to  which  no  part  of  any  com- 
munity can  have  any  show  of  right  to  reduce  another 


58  MAKING  BREAD.  [No. 

part :  men  so  degraded  have  no  protection ;  and  it  is 
a  disgrace  to  form  part  of  a  community  to  which 
they  belong.  This  degradation  has  been  occasioned 
by  a  silent  change  in  the  value  of  the  money  of  the 
country.  This  has  purloined  the  wages  of  the  la- 
bourer; it  has  reduced  him  by  degrees  to  housel  with 
the  spider  and  the  bat,  and  to  feed  with  the  pig.  It 
has  changed  the  habits,  and,  in  a  great  measure,  the 
character  of  the  people.  The  sins  of  this  system  are 
enormous  and  undescribable;  but,  thank  God  1  they 
seem  to  be  approaching  to  their  end !  Money  is-  re- 
suming its  value,  labour  is  recovering  its  price:  let 
us  hope  that  the  wretched  potatoe  is  disappearing, 
and  that  we  .shall,  once  more,  see  the  knife  in  the 
labourer's  hand  and  the  loaf  upon  his  board.  '  i 

[This  was  written  in  1821.  Now  (1823)  we  have 
had  the  experience  of  1822,  when,  for  the  first  time, 
the  world  saw  a  considerable  part  of  a  people, 
plunged  into  all  the  horrors  of  famine,  at  a  moment 
when  the  government  of  that  nation  declared  food 
to  be  abundant !  Yes,  the  year  1822  saw  Ireland  in 
this  state  $•  saw  the  people  of  whole  parishes  receiv- 
ing the  extreme  unction  preparatory  to  yielding  up 
their  breath  for  want  of  food  ;  and  this  while  large 
exports  of  meat  and  flour  were  taking  place  in  that 
country  !  But  horrible  as  this  was,  disgraceful  as  it 
was  to  the  name  of  Ireland,  it  was  attended  with 
this  good  effect :  it  brought  out,  from  many  members 
of  Parliament  (in  their  places,)  and  from  the  public 
in  general,  the  acknowledgment,  that  the  misery  and 
degradation  of  the  Irish  were  chiefly  owing  to  the 
use  of  the  potatoe  as  the  almost  sole  food  of  the 
people.'] 

100.  In  my  next  number  I  shall  treat  of  the  keeping" 
of  cows.  I  nave  said  that  I  will  teach  the  cottager 
how  to  keep  a  cow  all  the  ye.ar  round  upon  the  pro- 
duce of  a  quarter  of  an  acre,  or,  in  other  words,  forty 
rods,  of  land ;  and,  in*  my  next,  I  will  make  good 
my  promise. 


III.]  MAKING   BREAD.  *>9 

No.  IV 

MAKING    BREAD — (CONTINUED.) 

101.  IN  the  last  number,  at  Paragraph  86, 1  observ- 
ed that  I  hoped  it  was  unnecessary  for  me  to  give 
any  directions  as  to  the  mere  act  of  making  bread. 
But  several  correspondents' inform  me  that,  without 
these  directions,  a  conviction  of  the  utility  of  baking 
bread  at  home  is  of  no  use  to  them.     Therefore,  I 
shall  here  give  those  directions,  receiving  my  in- 
structions here  from  one,  who,  I  thank  God,  does 
know  how  to  perform  this  act. 

102.  Suppose  the  quantity  be  a  bushel  of  flour. 
Put  this  flour  into  a  trough  that  people  have  for  the 
purpose,  or  it  may  be  in. a  clean  smooth  tub  of  any 
shape,   if  not   too   deep,    and  if  sufficiently   large. 
Make  a  pretty  deep  hole  in  the  middle  of  this  heap 
of  flour.     Take  (for  a  bushel)  a  pint  of  good  fresh 
yeast,  mix  it  and  stir  it  well  up  in  a  pint  of  soft  wa- 
ter milk-warm.     Pour  this  into  the  hole  in  the  heap 
of  flour.     Then  take  a  spoon  and  work  it  round  the 
outside  of  this  body  of  moisture  so  as  to  bring  into 
that  body,  by  degrees,  flour  enough  to  make  it  form 
a  thin  batter,  which  you  must  stir  about  well  for  a 
minute  or  two.     Then  take  a  handful  of  flour  and 
scatter  it  thinly  over  the  head  of  this  batter,  so  as  to 
hide  it.     Then  cover  the  whole  over  with  a  cloth  to 
keep  it  warm  ;  and  this  covering,  as  well  as  the  si- 
tuation of  the  trough,  as  to  distance  from  the  fire, 
must  depend  on  the  nature  of  the  place  and  state  of 
the  weather  as  to  heat  and  cold.     When  you  per- 
ceive that  the  batter  has  risen  enough  to  make  cracks 
in  the  flour  that  you  covered  it  over  with,  you  begin 
to  form  the  whole  mass  into  dough,  thus  :  you  begin 
round  the  hole  containing  the  batter,  working  the 
flour  into  the  batter,  and  pouring  in,  as  it  is  wanted 
to  make  the  flour  mix  with  the  batter,  soft  water  milk- 
warm,  or  milk,  as  hereafter  to  be  mentioned.    Before 
you  begin  this,  you  scatter  the  salt  over  the  heap  at 


60  MAKING  BREAD.  [No. 

the  fate  of  half  a  pound  to  a  bushel  of  flour.  When 
you  have  got  the  whole  sufficiently  moist,  you  knead 
it  well.  This  is  a  grand  part  01  the  business;  for, 
unless  the  dough  be  well  worked,  there  will  be  little 
round  lumps  of  flour  in  the  loaves  ;  and,  besides,  the 
original  batter,  which  is  to  give  fermentation  to  the 
whole,  will  not  be  duly  mixed.  The  dough  must, 
therefore,  be  well  worked.  The  Jists  must  go  hear- 
tily into  it.  It  must  be  rolled  over ;  pressed  out ; 
folded  up  and  pressed  out  again,  until  it  be  com- 
pletely mixed,  and  formed  into  a  stiff  and  tough 
dough.  This  is  labour,  mind.  I  have  never  quite 
liked  baker's  bread  since  I  saw  a  great  heavy  fellow, 
in  a  bakehouse  in  France,  kneading  bread  with  his 
naked  feet !  His  feet  looked  very  white,  to  be  sure : 
whether  they  were  of  that  colour  before  he  got  into 
the  trough  I  could  not  tell.  God  forbid,  that  I  should 
suspect  that  this  is  ever  done  in  England :  It  is  la- 
bour ;  but,  what  is  exercise  other  than4abour  ?  Let  a 
young  woman  bake  a  bushel  once  a  week,  and  she 
will  do  very  well  without  phials  and  gallipots. 

103.  Thus,  then,  the  dough  is  made.     And,  when 
made,  it  is  to  be  formed  into  a  lump  in  the  middle  of 
the  trough,  and,  with  a  little  dry  flour  thinly  scattered 
over  it,  covered  over  again  to  be  kept  warm  and  to 
ferment ;  and  in  this  state,  if  all  be  done  rightly,  it 
will  not  have  to  remain  more  than  about  15  or  20 
minutes. 

104.  In  the  mean  while  the  oven  is  to  be  heated; 
and  this  is  much  more  than  half  the  art  of  the  ope- 
ration.    When  an  oven  is  properly  heated,  can  be 
known  only  by  actual  observation.     Women  who 
understand  the  matter,  know  when  the  heat  is  right 
the  moment  they  put  their  faces  within  a  yard  of  the 
oven-mouth  ;  and  once  or  twice  observing  is  enough 
for  any  person  of  common  capacity.     But  this  much 
may  be  said  in  the  way  of  rule:  that  the  fuel  (I  am 
supposing  a  brick  oven)  should  be  dry  (not  rotten) 
wood,  and  not  mere  brush-wood,  but  rather  fagot- 
sticks.     If  larger  wood,  it  ought  to  be  split  up  into 
sticks  not  more  than  two,  or  two  and  a  half  inches 


IV.]  MAKING  BREAD*  61 

through.^  Bush-wood  tnat  is  strong,  not  green  and 
not  too  old,  if  it  be  hard  in  its  nature  and  has  some 
sticks  in  it,  may  do.  The  woody  parts  of  furze,  or 
ling,  will  heat  an  oven  very  well.  But  the  thing  is, 
to  have  a  lively  and  yet  somewhat  strong  fire ;  so 
that  the  oven  may  be  heated  in  about  15  minutes,  and 
retain  its  heat  sufficiently  long. 

105.  The  oven  should  be  hot  by  the  time  that  the 
dough,  as  mentioned  in  Paragraph  103,  has  remained 
in  the  lump  about  20  minutes.    When  both  are  ready, 
take  out  the  fire,  and  wipe  the  oven  out  clean,  and, 
at  nearly  about  the  same  moment,  take  the  dough  out 
upon  the  lid  of  the  baking  trough,  or  some  proper 
place,  cut  it  up  into  pieces,  and  make  it  up  into  loaves, 
kneading  it  again  into  these  separate  parcels ;  and, 
as  you  go  on,  shaking  a  little  flour  over  your  board, 
to  prevent  the  dough  from  adhering  to  it.    The  loaves 
should  be  put  into  the  oven  as  quickly  as  possible 
after  they  are  formed  ;  when  in,  the  oven-lid,  or  door, 
should  be  fastened  up  very  closely  ;  and,  if  all  be  pro- 
perly managed,  loaves  of  about  the  size  of  quartern 
loaves  will  be  sufficiently  baked  in  about  two  hours. 
But  they  usually  take  down  the  lid,  and  look  at  the 
bread,  in  order  to  see  how  it  is  going  on. 

106.  And  what  is  there  worthy  of  the  name  of 
plague,  or  trouble,  in  all  this  ?     Here  is  no  dirt,  no 
filth,  no  rubbish,  no  litter,  no  slop.     And,  pray,  what 
can  be  pleasanter  to  behold?     Talk,  indeed,  of  your 
pantomimes  and  gaudy  shows  ;  your  processions  and 
installations  and  coronations  !    Give  me,  for  a  beau- 
tiful sight,  a  neat  and  smart  woman,  heating  her 
oven  and  setting  in  her  bread !     And,  if  the  bustle 
does  make  the  sign  of  labour  glisten  on  her  brow, 
where  is  the  man  that  would  not  kiss  that  off,  rather 
than  lick  the  plaster  from  the  cheek  of  a  duchess. 

107.  And  what  is  the  result  ?    Why,  good,  whole- 
some food,  sufficient  for  a  considerable  family  for  a 
week,  prepared  in  three  or  four  hours.     To  get  this 
quantity  of  food,  fit  to  be  eaten,  in  the  shape  of  po- 
tatoes, how  many  fires !  what  a  washing,  what  a 
boiling,  what  a  peeling,  what  a  slopping,  and  what  a 


62  BREWING  BEER.  [No. 

messing !  The  cottage  everlastingly  in  a  litter ;  the 
woman's  hands  everlastingly  wet  and  dirty ;  the 
children  grimed  up  to  the  eyes  with  dust  fixed  on  by 
potato-starch ;  and  ragged  as  colts,  the  poor  mother's 
time  all  being  devoted  to  the  everlasting  boilings  of 
the  pot !  Can  any  man,  who  knows  any  thing  of  the 
labourer's  life,  deny  this  ?  And  will,  then,  any  body, 
except  the  old  shuffle-breeches  band  of  the  Quarterly 
'Review,  who  have  all  their  lives  been  moving  from 
garret  to  garret,  who  have  seldom  seen  the  sun,  and 
never  the  dew  except  in  print;  will  any  body  except 
these  men  say,  that  the  people  ought  to  be  taught  to 
use  potatoes  as  a  substitute  for  bread  ? 

BREWING  BEER. 

108.  THIS  matter  has  been  fully  treated  of  in  the 
two  last  numbers.  But  several  correspondents  wish- 
ing to  fall  upon  some  means  of  rendering  the  prac- 
tice beneficial  to  those  who  are  unable  to  purchase 
brewing  utensils,  have  recommended  the  lending1  of 
them,  or  letting  out,  round  a  neighbourhood.  Another 
correspondent  has,  therefore,  pointed  out  to  me  an 
Act  of  Parliament  which  touches  upon  this  subject; 
and,  indeed,  what  of  Excise  Laws  and  Custom  Laws 
and  Combination  Laws  and  Libel  Laws,  a  human 
being  in  this  country  scarcely  knows  what  he  dares 
do  or  what  he  dares  say.  What  father,  for  instance, 
would  have  imagined,  that,  having  brewing  utensils, 
which  two  men  carry  from  house  to  house  as  easily 
as  they  can  a  basket,  he  dared  not  lend  them  to  his 
son,  living  in  the  next  street,  or  at  the  next  door  ? 
Yet  such  really  is  the  law ;  for,  according  to  the  Act 
5th  of  the  22  and  23  of  that  honest  and  sincere  gen- 
tleman Charles  II.,  there  is  a  penalty  of  50/.  for  lend- 
ing or  letting  brewing  utensils.  However,  it  has  this 
limit ;  that  the  penalty  is  confined  to  Cities,  Corpo- 
rate Torfhs,  and  Market  Towns,  WHERE  THERE  is  A 
PUBLIC  BREWHOUSE.  So  that,  in  the  first  place,  you 
may  let,  or  lend,  in  any  place  where  there  is  no  pub- 
lic brewhouse;  and  in  all  towns  not  corporate  or 


IV.]  BREWING  BEER.  63 

market j  and  in  all  villages,  hamlets,  and  scattered 
places* 

109.  Another  thing  is,  can  a  man  who  has  brewed 
beer  at  his  own  house  in  the  country,  bring  that  beer 
into  town  to  his  own  house,  and  for  the  use  of  his 

"•family  there?  This  has  been  asked  of  me.  I  can- 
not give  a  positive  answer  without  reading  about 
seven  large  volumes  in  quarto  of  taxing  laws.  The 
best  way  would  be  to  try  it ;  and,  if  any  penalty,  pay 
it  by  subscription,  if  that  would  not  come  under  the 
law  of  conspiracy !  However,  I  think,  there  can  be 
no  danger  kere.  So  monstrous  a  thing  as  this  can, 
surely,  not  exist.  If  there  be  such  a  law,  it  is  daily 
violated  ;  for  nothing  is  more  common  than  for  coun- 
try gentlemen,  who  have  a  dislike  to  die  by  poison, 
bringing  their  home-brewed  beer  to  London. 

1 10.  Another  correspondent  recommends  parishes 
to  make  their  own  malt.     But,  surely,  the  landlords 
mean  to  get  rid  of  the  malt  and  salt  tax !     Many 
dairies,  I  dare  say,  pay  50/.  a  year  each  in  salt  tax. 
How,  then,  are  they  to  contend  against  Irish  butter 
and  Dutch  butter  and  cheese  ?     And  as  to  the  malt 
tax,  it  is  a  dreadful  drain  from  the  land.    I  have  heard 
of  labourers,  living  "  in  unkent  places,"  making  their 
own  malt,  even  now  !   Nothing  is  so  easy  as  to  make 
your  own  malt,  if  ypu  were  permitted.     You  soak 
the  barley  about  three  days  (according  to  the  state  of 
the  weather.)  and  then  you  put  it  upon  stones  or 
bricks  and  keep  it  turned,  till  the  root  shoots  out; 
and  then  to  know  when  to  stop,  and  to  put  it  to 
dry,  take  up  a  corn  (which  you  will  find  nearly  trans- 
parent) and  look  through  the  skin  of  it.     You  will 
see  the  spear,  that  is  to  say,  the  shoot  that  would 
come  out  of  the  ground,  pushing  on  towards  the  point 
of  the  barley-corn.     It  starts  from  the  bottom,  where 
the  root  comes  out ;  and  it  goes  on  towards  the  other 
end  ;  arid  would,  if  kept  moist,  come  out  at  that  other 
end  when  the  root  was  about  an  inch  long.     So  that, 
when  you  hav"e  got  the  root  to  start,  by  soaking  and 
turning  in  heap,  the  spear  is  on  its  way.    If  you  look 
in  through  the  skin,  you  will  see  it;  and  now  observe; 


64  KEEPING  COWS.  [No. 

when  the  point  of  the  spear  has  got  along  as  far  as 
the  middle  of  the  barley-corn,  you  should  take  your 
barley  and  dry  it.  How  easy  would  every  family, 
and  especially  every  farmer,  do  this,  if  it  were  not 
for  the  punishment  attached  to  it !  The  persons  in 
the  "  unkent  places  "  before  mentioned,  dry  the  malt 
in  their  oven  !  But  let  us  hope  that  the  labourer  will 
soon  be  able  to  get  malt  without  exposing  himself  to 
punishment  as  a  violater  of  the  law. 

KEEPING  COWS.' 

111.  As  to  the  use  of  milk  and  of  that  which  pro- 
ceeds from  milk,  in  a  family,  very  little  need  be  said. 
At  a  certain  age  bread  and  milk  are  all  that  a  child 
wants.     At  a  later  age  they  furnish  one  meal  a  day 
for  -children.     Milk  is,  at  all  seasons,  good  to  drink. 
In  the  making  of  puddings,  and  in  the  making  of 
bread  too,  how  useful  is  it !     Let  any  one  who  has 
eaten  none  but  baker's  bread  for  a  good  while,  taste 
bread  home-baked,  mixed  with  milk  instead  of  with 
water ;  and  he  will  find  what  the  difference  is.  There 
is  this  only  to  be  observed,  that  in  hot  weather,  bread 
mixed  with  milk  will  not  keep  so  long"  as  that  mixed 
with  water.     It  will  of  course  turn  sour  sooner. 

112.  Whether  the  milk  of  a  cpw  be  to  be  consumed 
by  a  cottage  family  in  the  shape  of  milk,  or  whether 
it  be  to  be  made  to  yield  butter,  skim-milk,  and  butter- 
milk, must  depend  on  circumstances.    A  woman  that 
has  no  child,  or  only  one,  would,  perhaps,  find  it  best 
to.  make  some  butter  at  any  rate.    Besides,  skim-milk 
and  bread  (the  milk  being  boiled)  is  quite  strong  food 
enough  for  any  children's  breakfast,  even  when  they 
begin  to  go  to  work ;  a  fact  which  I  state  upon  the 
most  ample  and  satisfactory  experience,  very  seldom 
having  ever  had  any  other  sort  of  breakfast  myself 
till  I  was  more  than  ten  years  old,  and  I  was  in  the 
fieldte  at  work  full  four  years  before  that.     I  will  here 
mention  that  it  gave  me  singular  pleasure  to  see  a 
boy,  just  turned  of  sir,  helping  his  .father  to  reap,  in 
Sussex,  this  last  summer.     He  did  little,  to  be  sure ; 


KEEPING  COWS. 


but  it  was  something.  His  father  set  him  into  the 
ridge  at  a  great  distance  before  him  ;  and  when  he 
came  up  to  the  place,  he  found  a  sheaf  cut;  and,  thtose 
who  know  what  it  is  to  reap,  know  how  pleasant  it 
is  to  find  now  and  then  a  sheaf  cut  ready  to  their 
hand.  It  was  no  small  thing  to  see  a  boy  fit  to  be 
trusted  with  so  dangerous  a  thing  as  a  reap-hook  in 
his  hands,  at  an  age  when  "  young  masters  "  have 
nursery-maids  to  cut  their  victuals  for  them,  and  to 
see  that  they  do  not  fall  out  of  the  window,  tumble 
down  stairs,  or  run  under  carriage-wheels  or  horses' 
bellies.  Was  not  this  father  discharging  his  duty 
by  this  boy  much  better  than  he  would  have  been  by 
sending  him  to  a  place.  called  a  school?  The  boy  is 
in  a  school  .here,  and  an  excellent  school  too  :  the 
school  of  useful  labour.  I  must  hear  a  great  deal 
more  than  I  ever  have  heard,  to  convince  me,  that 
teaching  children  to  read  tends  so  much  to  their  hap- 
piness, their  independence  of  spirit,  their  manliness 
of  character,  as  teaching  them  to  reap.  The  crea- 
ture that  is  in  want  must  be  a  slave  ;  and  to  be  ha- 
bituated to  labour  cheerfully  is  the  only  means  of  pre- 
venting nineteen-twentieths  of  mankind  from  being 
in  want.  I  have  digressed  here  ;  but  observations  of 
this  sort  can,  in  my  opinion,  never  be  too  often  re- 
peated; especially  at  a  time  when  all  sorts  of  mad 
projects  are  on  foot,  for  what  is  falsely  called  edu- 
cating the  people,  and  when  some  would  do  this  by 
a  tax  that  would  compel  the  single  man  to  give  part 
of  his  earnings  to  teach  the  married  man's  children 
to  read  and  write. 

113.  Before  I  quit  the  uses  to  which  rnilk  may  be 
put,  let  me  mention,  that,  as  mere  drink,  it  is,  unless 
perhaps  in  case  of  heavy  labour,  better,  in  my  opinion, 
than  any  beer,  however  good.  I  have  drin&ed  little  else 
for  the  last  five  years,  at  any  time  of  the  day.  Skim- 
milk  I  mean.  If  you  have  not  milk  enough  to  wet 
up  your  bread  with  (for  a  bushel  of  flour  requires 
about  16  to  18  pints,)  you  make  up  the  quantity  with 
water,  of  course  ;  or,  which  is  a  very  good  way,  with 
water  that  has  been  put,  boiling  hot,  upon  bran,  and 
6* 


66  KEEPING   COW3.  [No. 

then  drained  off.  This  takes  the  goodness  out  of  the 
bran  to  be  sure ;  but  really  good  bread  is  a  thing  of 
so  much  importance,  that  it  always  ought  to  be  the 
very  first  object  in  domestic  economy. 

114.  The  cases  vary  so  much,  that  it  is  impossible 
to  lay  down  rules  for  the  application  of  the  produce 
of  a  cow,  which  rules  shall  fit  all  cases.     I  content 
myself,  therefore,  with  what  has  already  been  said  on 
this  subject ;  and  shall  only  make  an  observation  on 
the  act  of  milking^  before  I  come  to  the  chief  mat- 
ter ;  namely,  the  getting  of  the  food  for  the  cow.    A 
cow  should  be  milked  clean.    Not  a  drop,  if  it  can  be 
avoided,  should  be  left  in  the  udder.     It  has  been 
proved  that  the  half  pint  that  comes  out  last  has 
twelve  tim,es,  I  think  it  is,  as  much  butter  in  it,  as  the 
half  pint  that  comes  out  first.     I  tried  the  milk  often 
Alderney  cows,  and,  as  nearly  as  -I,  without  being 
very  nice  about  the  matter,  could  ascertain,  I  found 
the  difference  to  be  about  what  I  have  stated.     The 
udder  would  seem  to  be  a  sort  of  milk-pan  in  which 
the  cream  is  uppermost,  and,  of  course,  comes  out 
last,  seeing  that  the  outlet  is  at  the  bottom.     But,  be- 
sides this,  if  you  do  not  milk  clean,  the  cow  will  give 
less  and  less  milk,  and  will  become  dry  much  sooner 
than  she  ought.     The  cause  of  this  1  do  not  know, 
but  experience  has  long  established  the  fact. 

115.  In  providing  food  for  a  cow  we  must  look, 
first,  at  the  sort  of  cow  ;    seeing  that  a  cow  of  one 
sort  will  certainly  require  more  than  twice  as  much 
food  as  a  cow  of  another  sort.     For  a  cottage,  a  cow 
of  the  smallest  sort  common  in  England  is,  on  every 
account,  the  best;  and  such  a  cow  will  not  require, 
above  70  or  80  pounds  of  good  moist  food  in  the 
twenty-four  hours. 

116.  Now,  how  to  raise  this  food  on  40  rods  of 
ground  is  what  we  want  to  know.  It  frequently  hap- 
pens that  a  labourer  has  more  than  40  rods  of  ground. 
It  more  frequently  happens,  that  he  has  some  corn- 
won,  some  lane,  some  little  out-let  or  other,  for  a  part 
of  the  year,  at  least.     In  such  cases  he  may  make  a 
different  disposition  of  his  ground  ;  or  may  do  with 


IV.]  KEEPING   COWS.  67 

less  than  the  40  rods.  I  am  here,  for  simplicity's  sake, 
to  suppose,  that  he  have  40  rods  of  clear,  unshaded 
land,  besides  what  his  house  and  sheds  stand  upon ; 
and  that  he  have  nothing  further  in  the  way  of  means 
to  keep  his  cow. 

117.  I  suppose  the  40  rods  to  be  clean  and  unshad- 
ed ;  for  I  am  to  suppose,  that  when  a  man  thinks  of 
5  quarts  of  milk  a  day,  on  an  average,  all  the  year 
round,  he  will  not  suffer  his  ground  to  be  encumbered 
by  apple-trees  that  give  him  only  the  means  of  treat- 
ing his  children  to  fits  of  the  belly-ache,  or  with  cur- 
rant and  gooseberry  bushes,  which,  though  their  fruit 
do  very  well  to  amuse,  really  give  nothing  worthy  of 
the  name  of  food,  except  to  the  blackbirds  and  thrush- 
es.    The  ground  is  to  be  clear  of  trees ;  and,  in  the 
spring,  we  will  suppose  it  to  be  clean.     Then,  dig  it 
up  deeply,  or,  which  is  better,  trench  it,  keeping,  how- 
ever, the  top  spit  of  the  soil  at  the  top.     Lay  it  in 
ridges  in  April  or  May  about  two  feet  apart,   and 
made  high  and  sharp.      When  the  weeds   appear 
about  three  inches  high,  turn  the  ridges  into  the  fur- 
rows (never  moving  the  ground  but  in  dry  weather ',) 
and  bury  all  the  weeds.      Do  this  as  often  as  the 
weeds  get  three  inches  high  ;  and  by  the  fall,  you  will 
have  really  clean  ground,  and  not  poor  ground. 

118.  There  is  the  ground  then,  ready.     About  the 
26th   of  August,  but  not  earlier,  prepare  a  rod  of 
your  ground ;  and  put  some  manure  in  it  (for  some 
you  must  have,)  and  sow  one  half  of  it  with  Early 
York  Cabbage  Seed,  and  the  other  half  with  Sugar- 
loaf  Cabbage  Seed,  both  of  the  true  sort,    in  little 
drills  at  8  inches  apart,  and  the  seeds  thin  in  the 
drill.    If  the  plants  come  up  at  two  inches  apart  (and 
they  should  be  thinned  if  thicker,)  you  will  have  a 
plenty.     As  soon  as  fairly  out  of  ground,  hoe  the 
ground  nicely,  and  pretty  deeply,  and  again  in  a  few 
days.     When  the  plants  have  six  leaves,  which  will 
be  very  soon,  dig  up,  make  fine,  and  manure  another 
rod  or  two,  and  prick  out  the  plants,  4000  of  each  in 
rows  at  eight  inches  apart  and  three  inches  in  the 
row.    Hoe  the  ground  between  them  often,  and  they 


6$  KEEPING  COWS.  [No. 

will  grow  fast  and  be  straight  and  strong.  1  suppose 
that  these  beds  for  plants  take  4  rods  of  your  ground. 
Early  in  November,  or,  as  the  weather  may  serve,  a 
little  earlier  or  later,  lay  some  manure  (of  which  I 
shall  say  more  hereafter)  between  the  ridges,  in  the 
other  36  rods,  and  turn  the  ridges  over  on  this  ma- 
nure, and  then  transplant  your  plants  on  the  ridges 
at  15  inches  apart.  Here  they  will  stand  the  winter  ; 
and  you  must  see  that  the  slu'gs  do  not  eat  them.  If 
any  plants  fail,  you  have  plenty  in  the  bed  where  you 
prick  them  out ;  for  your  36  rods  will  notVequire  more 
than  4000  plants.  If  the  winter  be  very  hard,  and  bady 
for  plants,  you  cannot  cover  36  rods  ;  but  you  may 
the  bed  where  the  rest  of  your  plants  are.  A  little 
litter,  or  straw0  or  dead  grass,  or  fern,  laid  along  be- 
tween the  rows  and  the  plants,  not  to  cover  the  leaves, 
will  preserve  them  completely.  When  people  com- 
plain of  all  their  plants  being  "  cut  off'"  they  have, 
in  fact  nothing  to  complain  of  but  their  own  extreme 
carelessness.  If  I  had  a  gardener  who  complained 
of  all  his  plants  being  cut  off,  I  should  cut  him  off 
pretty  quickly.  If  those  in  the  36  rods  fail,  or  fail  in 
part,  fill  up  their  places,  later  in  the  winter,  by  plants 
from  the  bed. 

119.  If  you  find  the  ground  dry  at  the  top  during 
the  winter,  hoe  it,  and  particularly  near  the  plants, 
and  rout  out  all  slugs  and  insects.  And  when  March 
comes,  and  the  ground  is  dry,  hoe  deep  and  well,  and 
earth  the  plants  up  close  to  the  lower  leaves.  As  soon 
as  the  plants  begin  to  grow,  dig  the  ground  with  a 
spade  clean  and  well,  and  let  the  spade  go  as  near  to 
the  plants  as  you  can  without  actually  displacing  the 
plants.  Give  them  another  digging  in  a  month  ;  and, 
if  weeds  come  in  the  mean-while,  hoe,  and  let  not 
one   live  a  week.     Oh !    "  what  a  deal  of  work  /" 
Well !  but  it  is  for  yourself,  and,  besides,  it  is  not  all 
to  be  done  in  a  day  ;  and  we  shall  by-and-by  see  what 
it  is  altogether. 

120.  By  the  first  of  June ;  I  speak  of  the  South  of 
England,  and  there  is  also  some  difference  in  seasons 
aud  soils ;   but,  generally  speaking,  by  the  first  of 


IV.]  KEEPING   COW3.  69 

June  you  will  have  turned-in  cabbages,  and  soon 
you  will  have  the  Early  Yorks  solid.  And  by  the 
first  of  June  you  may  get  your  cow,  one  that  is  about 
to  calve,  or  that  has  just  calved^  and  at  this  time  such 
a  cow  as  you  will  want  will  not,  thank  God,  cost 
above  five  pounds. 

121.  I  shall  speak  of  the  place  to  keep  her  in,  and 
of  the  manure  and  litter,  by-and-by.     At  present  I 
confine  myself  to  her  mere  food.     The  36  rods,  if 
the  cabbages  all  stood  till  they  got  solid,  would  give 
her  food  for  200  days,  at  80  pounds  weight  per  day, 
which  is  more  than  she  would  eat.     But  you  must 
use  some,  at  first,  that  are  not  solid ;  and,  then,  some 
of  them  will  split  before  you  can  use  them.    But  you 
will  have  pigs  to  help  off  with  them,  and  to  gnaw 
the  heads  of  the  stumps.     Some  of  the  sugar-loaves 
may  have  been  planted  out  in  the  spring;  and  thus 
these  36  rods  will  get  you  along  to  some  time  in  Sep- 
tember. 

122.  Now  mind,  in  March,   and  again  in  April, 
sow  more  Early  Yorks,  and  get  them  to  be  fine  stout 
plants,  as  you  did  those  in  the  fall.     Dig  up  the 
ground  and  manure  it,  and,  as  fast  as  you  cut  cab- 
bages, plant  cabbages ;  and  in  the  same  manner  and 
with  the  same  cultivation  as  before.    Your  last  plant- 
ing will  be  about  the  middle  of  August,-  with  stout 
plants,  and  these  will  serve  you  into  the  month  of 
November. 

123.  Now  we  have  to  provide  from  December  to 
Mo.y  inclusive  ;   and  that,  too,  out  of  this  same  piece 
of  ground.     In  November  there  must  be,  arrived  at 
perfection,  3000  turnip  plants.     These,  without  the 
greens,  must  weigh,  on  an  average,  5  pounds,  and 
this,  at  80  pounds  a  day,  will. keep  the  cow  187  days; 
and  there  are  but  182  days  in  these  six  months.    The 
greens  will  have  helped  out  the  latest  cabbages  to 
carry  you  through  November,  and  perhaps  into  De- 
cember.    But  for  these  six  months,  you  must  depend 
on  nothing  but  the  Swedish  turnips. 

124.  And  now,  how  are  these  to  be  had  upon  the 
same  ground  that  bears  the  cabbages  ?      That  we 


70  KEEPING  COWS.  [No. 

are  now  going  to  see.  When  you  plant  out  your  cab- 
bages at  the  out-set,  put  first  a  row  of  Early  Yorks, 
then  a  row  of  Sugar-loaves,  and  so  on  throughout 
the  piece.  Of  course,  as  you  are  to  use  the  Early 
Yorks  first,  you  will  cut  every  other  row ;  and  the 
Early  Yorks  that  you  are  to  plant  in  summer  will 
go  into  the  intervals.  By-and-by  the  Sugar-loaves 
are  cut  away,  and  in  their  place  will  come  Swedish 
turnips,  you  digging  and  manuring  the  ground  as  in 
the  case  of  the  cabbages  :  and,  at  last,  you  will  find 
about  16  rods  where  you  will  have  found  it  too  late, 
and  unnecessary  besides,  to  plant  any  second  crop  of 
cabbages.  Here  the  Swedish- turnips  will  stand  in 
rows  at  two  feet  apart,  (and  always  a  foot  apart  in  the 
row,)  and  thus  you  will  have  three  thousand  turnips; 
and  if  these  do  not  weigh  five  pounds  each  on  an 
average,  the  fault  must  be  in  the  seed  or  in  the  man- 
agement. 

125.  The  Swedish  turnips  are  raised  in  this  man- 
ner. You  will  bear  in  mind  the  four  rods  of  ground 
in  which  you  have  sowed  and  pricked  out  your  cab- 
bage plants.  The  plants  that  will  be  left  there  will, 
in  April,  serve  you  for  greens,  if  you  ever  eat  any, 
though  bread  and  bacon  are  very  good  without  greens, 
and  rather  better  than  with.  At  any  rate,  the  pig, 
which  has  strong  powers  of  digestion,  will  consume 
this  herbage.  In  a  part  of  these  four  rods  you  will,  in 
March  and  April,  as  before  directed,  have  sown  and 
raised  your  Early  Yorks  for  the  summer  planting. 
Now,  in  the  last  week  of  May,  prepare  a  quarter  of  a 
rod  of  this  ground,  and  sow  it,  precisely  as  directed 
for  the  Cabbage-seed,  with  Swedish  turnip-seed ;  and 
sow  a  quarter  of  a  rod  every  three  days,  till  you  have 
sowed  two  rods.  If  the  fly  appear,  cover  the  rows 
over  in  the  day-time  with  cabbage  leaves,  and  take 
the  leaves  off  at  night ;  hoe  well  between  the  plants  ; 
and  when  they  are  safe  from  the  fly,  thin  them  to  four 
inches  apart  in  the  row.  The  two  rods  will  give  you 
nearly  Jive  thousand  plants,  which  is  2000  more  than 
you  will  want  From  this  bed  you  draw  your  plants 
to  transplant  in  the  ground  where  the  cabbages  have 


IV.]  KEEPING  COWS.  71 

stood,  as  before  directed.  You  should  transplant 
none  much  before  the  middle  of  July,  and  not  much 
later  than  the  middle  of  August.  In  the  two  rods 
whence  you  take  your  turnip  plants,  you  may  leave 
plants  to  come  to  perfection,  at  two  feet  distances 
each  way ;  and  this  will  give  you  over  and  above, 
840  pounds  weight  of  turnips.  For  the  other  two 
rods  will  be  ground  enough  for  you  to  sow  your 
cabbage  plants  in  at  the  eild  of  August,  as  directed 
for  last  year. 

126.  I  should  now  proceed  to  speak  of  the  manner 
of  harvesting,  preserving,  and  using  the  crops  ;  of  the 
manner  of  feeding  the  cow  ;  of  the  shed  for  her ;  of  the 
managing  of  the  manure,  and  several  other  less  im- 
portant things  ;  but  these,  for  want  of  room  here,  must 
be  reserved  for  the  beginning  of  my  next  Number. 
After,  therefore,  observing;  that  the  Turnip  plants 
must  be  transplanted  in  the  same  way  that  Cabbage 
plants  are  ;  and  that  both  ought  to  be  transplanted  in 
dry  weather  and  in  ground  just  fresh  digged,  I  shall 
close  this  Number  with  the  notice  of  two  points  which 
I  arn  most  anxious  to  impress  upon  the  mind  of  every 
reader. 

-  127.  The  first  is,  whether  these  crops  give  an  ill 
taste  to  milk  and  butter.  It  is  very  certain,  that  the 
taste  and  smell  of  certain  sorts  of  cattle-food  will  do 
this ;  for,  in  some  parts  of  America,  where  the  wild 
garlick,  of  which  the  cows  are  very  fond,  and  which, 
like  other  bulbous-rooted  plants,  springs  before  the 
grass,  not  only  the  milk  and  butter  have  a  strong  taste 
of  garlick,  but  even  the  veal,  when  the  calves  suck 
milk  from  such  sources.  None  can  be  more  common 
expressions,  than,  in  Philadelphia  market,  are  those 
of  Garlicky  Butter  and  Garlicky  Veal.  I  have 
distinctly  tasted  the  Whiskey  in  milk  of  cows  fed  on 
distiller's  wash.  It  is  also  certain,  that,  if  the  cow 
eat  putrid  leaves  of  cabbages  and  turnips,  the  butter 
will  be  offensive.  And  the  white-turnip,  which  is  at 
best  but  a  poor  thing,  and  often  half  putrid,  makes 
miserable  butter.  The  large  cattle-cabbage,  which, 
when  loaved  hard,  has  a  strong  and  even  an  offensive 


72  KEEPING -COWS.  [No. 

smell,  will  give  a  bad  taste  and  smell  to  milk  and  but- 
ter, whether  there  be  putrid  leaves  or  not.  If  you  boil 
one  of  these  rank  cabbages,  the  water  is  extremely 
offensive  to  the  smell.  But  I  state  upon  positive  and 
recent  experience,  that  Early  York  and  Sugar-loaf 
Cabbages  will  yield  as  sweet  milk  and  butter  as  any 
food  that  can  be  given  to  a  cow.  During  this  last 
summer,  I  have,  with  the  exception  about  to  be  no- 
ticed, kept,  from  the  1st  of  May  to  the  22d  of  October, 
five  cows  upon  the  grass  of  two  acres  and  a  quarter  oj 
ground,  the  grass  being  generally  cut  up  for  them, 
and  given  to  them  in  the  stall.  I  had  in  the  spring 
5000  cabbage  plants,  intended  for  my  pigs,  eleven  in 
number.  But  the  pigs  could  not  eat  half  their  allow- 
ance, though  they  were  not  very  small  when  they  be- 
gan upon  it.  We  were  compelled  to  resort  to  the  aid 
of  the  cows  ;  and,  in  order  to  see  the  effect  on  the  milk 
and  butter,  we  did  not  mix  the  food ;  but  gave  the 
cows  two  distinct  spells  at  the  cabbages,  each  spell 
about  10  days  in  duration.  The  cabbages  were  cut 
off  the  stump  with  little  or  no  care  about  dead  leaves. 
And  sweeter,  finer  butter,  butter  of  a  finer  colour,  than 
these  cabbages  made,  never  was  made  in  this  world. 
I  never  had  better  from  cows  feeding  in  the  sweetest 
pasture.  Now,  as  to  Swedish  turnips,  they  do  give  a 
little  taste,  especially  if  boiling  of  the  milk  pans  be 
neglected,  and  if  the  greatest  care  be  not  taken  about 
all  the  dairy  tackle.  Yet  we  have,  for  months  to- 
gether, had  the  butter  so  fine  from  Swedish  turnips, 
that  nobody  could  well  distinguish  it  from  grass-but- 
ter. But  to  secure  this,  there  must  be  no  sluttishness. 
Churn;  pans,  pail,  shelves,  wall,  floor,  and  all  about 
the  dairy,  must  be  clean  ;  and,  above  all  things-,  the 
pans  must  be  boiled.  However,  after  all,  it  is  not 
nere  a  case  of  delicacy  of  smell  so  refined  as  to  faint 
at  any  thing  that  meets  it  except  the  stink  of  per- 
fumes. If  the  butter  do  taste  a  little  of  the  Swedish 
turnip,  it  will  do  very  well  where  there  is  plenty  of 
that  sweet  sauce  which  early  rising  and  bodily  labour 
are  ever  sure  to  bring. 

128.  The  other  point  (about  which  I  am  still  more 


V.]  KEEPING  COWS.  73 

anxious)  is  the  seed /  for  if  the  seed  be  not  sound, 
and  especially  if  it  be  not  true  to  its  kind,  all  your 
labour  is  in  vain.  It  is  best,  if  you  can  do  it,  to  get 
your  seed  from  some  friend,  or  some  one  that  you 
know  and  can  trust.  If  you  save  seed,  observe  all 
the  precautions  mentioned  in  my  book  on  Gardening". 
This  very  year  I  have  some  Swedish  turnips,  so 
called,  about  7000  in  number,  and  should,  if  my  seed 
had  been  true,  have  had  about  twenty  tons  weight ; 
instead  of  which  I  have  about  three!  Indeed,  they 
are  not  Swedish  turnips,  but  a  sort  of  mixture  be- 
tween that  plant  and  rape.  I  am  sure  the  seedsman 
did  not  wilfully  deceive  me.  He  was  deceived  him- 
self. The  truth  is,  that  seedsmen  are  compelled  to 
buy  their  seeds  of  this  plant.  Farmers  save  it ;  and 
they  but  too  often  pay  very  little  attention  to  the 
manner  of  doing  it.  The  best  way  is  to  get  a  dozen 
of  fine  turnip  plants,  perfect  in  all  respects,  and  plant 
them  in  a  situation  where  the  smell  of  the  blossoms 
of  nothing  of  the  cabbage  or  rape  or  turnip  or  even 
charlock  kind,  can  reach  them.  The  seed  will  keep 
perfectly  good  for  four  years. 


No.  V 
KEEPING  cows — (continued.) 

129.  I  HAVE  now,  in  the  conclusion  of  this  article, 
to  speak  of  the  manner  of  harvesting"  and  preserving" 
the  Swedes  ;  of  the  place  to  keep  the  cow  in;  of  the 
manure  for  the  land ;  and  of  the  quantity  of  labour 
that  the  cultivation  of  the  land  and  the  harvesting  of 
the  crop  will  require. 

130.  Harvesting"   and    preserving    the   Swedes. 
When  they  are  ready  to  take  up,  the  tops  must  be  cut 
off,  if  not  cut  off  before,  and  also  the  roots;  but  neither 
tops  nor  roots  should  be  cut  off  very  close.     You  will 
have  room  for  ten  bushels  of  the  bulbs  in  the  house,  or 
shed.    Put  the  rest  into  ten-bushel  heaps.    Make  the 

7 


74  KEEPING   COWS.  [No. 

heap  upon  the  ground  in  a  round  form,  and  let  it  rise 
up  to  a  point.  Lay  over  it  a  little  litter,  straw,  or  dead 
grass,  about  three  inches  thick,  and  then  earth  upon 
that  about  six  inches  thick.  Then  cut  a  thin  round 
green  turf,  about  eighteen  inches  over,  and  put  it 
upon  the  crown  of  the  heap  to  prevent  the  earth  from 
being  washed  off.  Thus  these  heaps  will  remain  till 
wanted  for  use.  When  given  to  the  cow,  it  will  be 
best  to  wash  the  Swedes  and  cut  each  into  two  or 
three  pieces  with  a  spade  or  some  other  tool.  You 
can  take  in  ten  bushels  at  a  time.  If  you  find  them 
sprouting  in  the  spring,  open  the  remaining  heaps, 
and  expose  them  to  the  sun  and  wind ;  and  cover 
them  again  slightly  with  straw  or  litter  of  some 
sort.* 

131.  As  to  the  place  to  keep  the  cow  in,  much  will 
depend  upon  situation  and  circumstances.  I  am  al- 
ways supposing  that  the  cottage  is  a  real  cottage,  and 
not  a  house  in  a  town  or  village  street ;  though, 
wherever  there  is  the  quarter  of  an  acre  of  ground, 
the  cow  may  be  kept.  Let  me,  however,  suppose 
that  which  will  generally  happen ;  namely,  that  the 
cottage  stands  by  the  side  of  a  road,  or  lane,  and 
amongst  fields  and  woods,  if  not  on  the  side  of  a  com- 
nion.  To  pretend  to  tell  a  country  labourer  how  to 
build  a  shed  for  a  cow,  how  to  stick  it  up  against  the 
end  of  his  house,  or  to  make  it  an  independent  erec- 
tion ;  or  to  dwell  on  the  materials,  where  poles,  rods, 
wattles,  rushes,  furze,  heath,  and  cooper-chips,  are  all 
to  be  gotten  by  him  for  nothing  or  next  to  nothing, 
would  be  useless  ;  because  a  man  who,  thus  situated, 
can  be  at  any  loss  for  a  shed  for  his  cow,  is  not  only  un- 
fit to  keep  a  cow,  but  unfit  to  keep  a  cat.  The  warmer 
the  shed  is  the  better  it  is.  The  floor  should  slope, 
but  not  too  much.  There  are  stones,  of  some  sort  or 
other,  every-where,  and  about  six  wheel-barrow-fulls 
will  pave  the  shed,  a  thing  to  be  by  no  means  neglect- 

*  Be  sure,  now,  before  you  go  any  further,  to  go  to  the  end  of 
the  book,  and  there  read  about  MANGLE  WURZLE.  Be  sure  to  do 
this.  And  there  read  also  about  COBBBTT'S  CORN.  Be  sure  to  do  this 
before  you  go  any  further. 


V.]  KEEPING   COWS.  75 

ed.  A  broad  trough,  or  box,  fixed  up  at  the  head  of 
the  cow,  is  the  thing  to  give  her  food  in ;  and  she 
should  be  fed  three  times  a  day,  at  least ;  always  at 
day-light  and  at  sun-set.  It  is  not  absolutely  necessa- 
ry that  a  cow  ever  quit  her  shed,  except  just  at  calving 
time,  or  when  taken  to  the  bull.  In  the  former  case 
the  time  is,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  known  to  within 
forty-eight  hours.  Any  enclosed  field  or  place  will 
do  for  her  during  a  day  or  two ;  and  for  such  purpose, 
if  there  be  not  room  at  home,  no  man  will  refuse  place 
for  her  in  a  fallow  field.  It  will,  however,  be  good, 
where  there  is  no  common  to  turn  her  out  upon,  to 
have  her  led  by  a  string,  two  or  three  times  a  week, 
which  may  be  done  by  a  child  only  five  years  old,  to 
graze,  or  pick,  along  the  sides  of  roads  and  lanes. 
Where  there  is  a  common,  she  will,  of  course,  be  turn- 
ed out  in  the  day  time,  except  in  very  wet  or  severe 
weather ;  and  in  a  case  like  this,  a  smaller  quantity 
of  ground  will  suffice  for  the  keeping  of  her.  Accord- 
ing to  the  present  practice,  a  miserable  "  toilet"  of 
bad  hay  is,  in  such  cases,  the  winter  provision  for  the 
cow.  It  can  scarcely  be  called  food ;  and  the  conse- 
quence is,  the  cow  is  both  dry  and  lousy  nearly  half 
the  year  ;  instead  of  being  dry  only  about  fifteen  days 
before  calving,  and  being  sleek  and  lusty  at  the  end 
of  the  winter,  to  which  a  warm  lodging  greatly  con- 
tributes. For,  observe,  if  you  keep  a  cow,  any  time 
between  September  and  June,  out  in  a  field  or  yard, 
to  endure  the  chances  of  the  weather,  she  will  not, 
though  she  have  food  precisely  the  same  in  quantity 
and  quality,  yield  above  two-thirds  as  much  as  if  she 
were  lodged  in  house ;  and  in  wet  weather  she  will 
not  yield  half  so  much.  It  is  not  so  much  the  cold 
as  the  wet  that  is  injurious  to  all  our  stock  in  England. 
132.  The  Manure.  At  the  beginning  this  must 
be  provided  by  collections  made  on  the  road ;  by  the 
results  of  the  residence  in  a  cottage.  Let  any  man 
clean  out  every  place  about  his  dwelling ;  rake  and 
scrape  and  sweep  all  into  a  heap ;  and  he  will  find 
that  he  has  a  great  deal.  Earth  of  almost  any  sort 
that  has  long  lain  on  the  surface,  and  has  been  trod* 


76  KEEPING  COWS.  [N0, 

den  on,  is  a  species  of  manure.  Every  act  that  tends 
to  neatness  round  a  dwelling,  tends  to  the  creating 
of  a  mass  of  manure.  And  I  have  very  seldom  seen 
a  cottage,  with  a  plat  of  ground  of  a  quarter  of  an  acre 
belonging  to  it,  round  about  which  I  could  not  have 
collected  a  very  large  heap  of  manure.  Every  thing  of 
animal  or  vegetable  substance  that  comes  into  a  house, 
must  go  out  of  it  again,  in  one  shape  or  another.  The 
very  emptying  of  vessels  of  various  kinds,  on  a  heap 
of  common  earth,  makes  it  a  heap  of  the  best  of 
manure.  Thus  goes  on  the  work  of  reproduction; 
and  thus  is  verified  the  words  of  the  Scripture, 
"  Flesh  is  grass,  and  there  is  nothing"  new  under  the 
sun"  Thus  far  as  to  the  outset.  When  you  have 
got  the  cow,  there  is  nb  more  care  about  manure; 
for,  and  especially  if  you  have  a  pig  also,  you  must 
have  enough  annually  for  an  acre  of  ground.  And 

cessary, 
crop;  fc 

than  substantial  part ;  as  it  is  well  known,  that  wheat 
plants,  standing  in  ground  too  full  of  manure,  will 
yield  very  thick  and  long  straws,  but  grains  of 'little 
or  no  substance.  You  ought  to  depend  more  on  the 
spade  and  the  hoe  than  on  the  dung-heap.  Never- 
theless, the  greatest  care  should  be  taken  to  preserve 
the  manure  ;  because  you  will  want  straw,  unless  you 
be  by  the  side  of  a  common  which  gives  you  rushes, 
grassy  furze,  or  fern  ;  and  to  get  straw  you  must  give 
a  part  of  your  dung  from  the  cow-stall  and  pig-sty. 
The  best  way  to  preserve  manure,  is  to  have  a  pit  of 
sufficient  dimensions  close  behind  the  cow-shed  and 
pig-sty,  for  the  run  from  these  to  go  into,  and  from 
which  all  runs  of  rain  water  should  be  kept.  Into  this 
pit  would  go  the  emptying  of  the  shed  and  of  the  sty, 
and  the  produce  of  all  sweepings  and  cleanings  round 
the  house ;  and  thus  a  large  mass  of  manure  would 
soon  grow  together.  Much  too  large  a  quantity  for 
a  quarter  of  an  acre  of  ground.  One  good  load  of 
wheat  or  rye  straw  is  all  that  you  would  want  for  the 
winter,  and  half  of  one  for  the  summer ;  and  you 


V.]  KEEPING  COWS.  77 

would  have  more  than  enough  dung  to  exchange 
against  ttfls  straw. 

1 33.  Now,  as  to  the  quantity  of  labour  that  the 
cultivation  of  the  land  will  demand  in  a  year.  We 
will  suppose  the  whole  to  have  Jive  complete  dig- 
gings, and  say  nothing  about  the  little  matters  of 
sowing  and  planting  and  hoeing  and  harvesting,  all 
which  are  a  mere  trifle.  We  are  supposing  the  owner 
to  be  an  able  labouring  man  ;  and  such  a  man  will 
dig  12  rods  of  ground  in  a  day.  Here  are  200  rods 
to  be  digged,  and  here  are  little  less  than  17  days  of 
work  at  12  hours  in  the  day ;  or  200  hours*  work,  to 
be  done  in  the  course  of  the  long  days  of  spring  and 
summer,  while  it  is  li^ht  long  before  six  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  long  after  six  at  night.  What  is  it,  then  ? 
Is  it  not  better  than  time  spent  in  the  ale-house,  or 
in  creeping  about  after  a  miserable  hare  ?  Frequently, 
and  most  frequently,  there  will  be  a  boy,  if  not  two, 
big  enough  to  help.  And  (I  only  give  this  as  a  hint) 
I  saw,  on  the  7th  of  November  last  (1822,)  a  very 
pretty  woman,  in  the  village  of  Hannington,  in  Wilt- 
shire, digging  a  piece  of  ground  and  planting  it  with 
Early  Cabbages,  which  she  did  as  handily  and  as 
neatly  as  any  gardener  that  ever  I  saw.  The  ground 
was  wet,  and  therefore,  to  avoid  treading  the  digged 
ground  in  that  state,  she  had  her  line  extended,  and 
put  in  the  rows  as  she  advanced  in  her  digging,  stand- 
ing in  the  trench  while  she  performed  the  act  of 
planting,  which  she  did  with  great  nimbleness  and 
precision.  Nothing  could  be  more  skilfully  or  beau- 
tifully done.  Her  clothes  were  neat,  clean,  and  tight 
about  her.  She  had  turned  her  handkerchief  down 
from  her  neck,  which,  with  the  glow  that  the  work 
had  brought  into  her  cheeks,  formed  an  object  which 
I  do  not  say  would  have  made  me  actually  stop  my 
chaise,  had  it  not  been  for  the  occupation  in  which 
she  was  engaged ;  but,  all  taken  together,  the  temp- 
tation was  too  strong  to  be  resisted.  But  there  is  the 
Sunday ;  and  I  know  of  no  law,  human  or  divine, 
that  forbids  a  labouring  man  to  dig  or  plant  his  gar- 
den on  Sunday,  if  the  good  of  his  family  demand  it ; 
7* 


7&  KEEPING  COWS.  [No, 

and  if  he  cannot,  without  injury  to  that  family,  find 
other  time  to  do  it  in.  Shepherds,  carters,  jHgfeeders, 
drovers,  coachmen,  cooks,  footmen,  printers,  and  nu- 
merous others,  work  on  the  Sunaays.  Theirs  are 
deemed  by  the  law  works  of  necessity.  Harvesting 
and  haymaking  are  allowed  to  be  carried  on  on  the 
Sunday,  in  certain  cases ;  when  they  are  always 
carried  on  by  provident  farmers.  And  I  should  be 
glad  to  know  the  case  which  is  more  a  case  of  ne- 
cessity than  that  now  under  our  view.  In  fact,  the 
labouring  people  do  work  on  the  Sunday  morning  in 
particular,  all  over  the  country,  at  something  or  other, 
or  they  are  engaged  in  pursuits  a  good  deal  less  reli- 
gious than  that  of  digging  and  planting.  So  that,  as 
to  the  200  hours,  they  are  easily  found,  without  the  loss 
of  any  of  the  time  required  for  constant  daily  labour. 
134.  And  what  a  produce  is  that  of  a  cow !  I  sup- 
pose only  an  average  of  5  quarts  of  milk  a  day.  If 
made  into  butter,  it  will  be  equal  every  week  to  two 
days  of  the  man's  wages,  besides  the  value  of  the 
skim  milk :  and  this  can  hardly  be  of  less  value  than 
another  day's  wages.  What  a  thing,  then,  is  this 
cow,  if  she  earn  half  as  much  as  the  man  !  I  am 
greatly  under- rating  her  produce  ;  but  I  wish  to  put 
all  the  advantages  at  the  lowest.  To  be  sure,  there 
is  work  for  the  wife,  or  daughter,  to  milk  and  make 
butter.  But  the  former  is  done  at  the  two  ends  of 
the  day,  and  the  latter  only  about  once  in  the  week. 
And,  whatever  these  may  subtract  from  the  labours 
of  the  field,  which  all  country  women  ought  to  be 
engaged  in  whenever  they  conveniently  can ;  what- 
ever the  cares  created  by  the  cow  may  subtract  from 
these,  is  amply  compensated  for  by  the  education 
that  these  cares  will  give  to  the  children.  They  will 
all  learn  to  milk,*  and  the  girls  to  make  butter.  And 

*  To  me  the  follow-in?  has  happened  within  the  last  year.  A  youn? 
man,  in  the  country,  hud  agreed  to  be  my  servant;  but  it  was  found 
that,  he  conld  not  milk ;  and  the  bargain  was  set  aside.  About  a  month 
afterwards  a  young  man,  who  said  he  w.is  a. farmer's  son,  anJ  who 
came  from  Herefordshire,  offered  himself  to  me  at  Kensington.  "Can 
you  milk  ?"  He  could  not ;  but  would  learn !  Ay,  but  in  the  learn- 
ing,  he  might  dry  up  my  cows!  What  a  shame  to  the  parents  of 
u»«se  young  men  !  Both  of  them  were  in  want  of  employment.  Th« 


V.J  KEEPING  COWS.  79 

which  is  a  thing  of  the  very  first  importance,  they 
will  all  learn,  from  their  infancy,  to  set  a  just  value 
upon  dumb  animals,  and  will  grow  up  in  the  habit 
oi  treating  them  with  gentleness  and  feeding  them 
with  care.  To  those  who  have  not  been  brought  up 
in  the  midst  of  rural  affairs,  it  is  hardly  possible  to 
give  an  adequate  idea  of  the  importance  of  this  part 
of  education.  I  should  be  very  loth  to  intrust  ihe 
care  of  my  horses,  cattle,  sheep,  or  pigs,  to  any  one 
whose  father  never  had  cow  or  pig  of  his  own.  It  is 
a  general  complaint,  that  servants,  and  especially 
farm-servants,  are  not  so  good  as  they  used  to  be. 
How  should  they  ?  They  were  formerly  the  sons 
and  daughters  of  small  farmers  ;  they  are  now  the 
progeny  of  miserable  property-less  labourers.  They 
nave  never  seen  an  animal  in  which  they  had  any 
interest.  They  are  careless  by  habit.  This  mon- 
strous evil  has  arisen  from  causes  which  I  have  a 
thousand  times  described ;  and  which  causes  must  now 
be  speedily  removed ;  or,  they  will  produce  a  disso- 
lution of  society,  and  give  us  a  beginning  afresh. 

135.  The  circumstances  vary  so  much,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  lay  down  precise  rules  suited  to  all  cases. 
The  cottage  may  be  on  the  side  of  a  forest  or  com- 
mon ;  it  may  be  on  the  side  of  a  lane  or  of  a  great  road, 
distant  from  town  or  village  ;  it  may  be  on  the  skirts 
of  one  of  these  latter :  and  then,  again,  the  family  may 
be  few  or  great  in  number,  the  children  small  or  big, 
according  to  all  which  circumstances,  the  extent  and 
application  of  the  cow-food,  and  also  the  application 
of  the  produce,  will  naturally  be  regulated.  Under 
some  circumstances,  half  the  above  crop  may  be 
enough  ;  especially  where  good  commons  are  at  hand. 
Sometimes  it  may  be  the  best  way  to  sell  the  calf  as 
soon  as  calved;  at  others,  to  fat  it;  and,  at  others,  if 
you  cannot  sell  it,  which  sometimes  happens,  to  knock 
it  on  the  head  as  soon  as  calved  ;  for,  where  there  is 
a  family  of  small  children,  the  price  of  a  calf  of  two 

latter  had  come  more  than  a  hundred  miles  in  search  of  work  ;  and 
here  he  was  left  to  hunger  still,  and  to  be  exposed  to  all  sorts  of  ill* 
because  he  could  not  milk. 


SO  KEEPING  COWS.  [No. 

months  old  cannot  be  equal  to  the  half  of  the  value  of 
the  two  months'  milk.  It  is  pure  weakness  to  call  it 
"  c  pity."  It  is  a  much  greater  pity  to  see  hungry 
children  crying  for  the  milk  that  a  calf  is  sucking  to 
no  useful  purpose ;  and  as  to  the  cow  and  the  calf,  the 
one  must  lose  her  young,  and  the  other  its  life,  after 
all ;  and  the  respite  only  makes  an  addition  to  the  suf- 
ferings of  both. 

136.  As  to  the  pretended  unwholesomeness  of  milk 
in  certain  cases  ;  as  to  its  not  being  adapted  to  some 
constitutions,  I  do  not  believe  one  word  of  the  matter. 
When  we  talk  of  the  fruits,  indeed,  which  were  for- 
merly the  chief  food  of  a  great  part  of  mankind,  we 
should  recollect,  that  those  fruits  grew  in  countries 
that  had  a  sun  to  ripen  the  fruits,  and  to  put  nutritious 
matter  into  them.  But  as  to  milk,  England  yields  to 
no  country  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  Neat  cattle 
will  touch  nothing  that  is  not  wholesome  in  its  nature  ; 
nothing  that  is  not  wholly  innoxious.  Out  of  a  pail 
that  has  ever  had  grease  in  it,  they  will  not  drink  a 
drop,  though  they  be  raging  with  thirst.  Their  very 
breath  is  fragrance.  And  how,  then,  is  it  possible, 
that  unwholesomeness  should  distil  from  the  udder  of 
a  cow?  The  milk  varies,  indeed,  in  its  quality  and 
taste  according  to  the  variations  in  the  nature  of  the 
food ;  but  no  food  will  a  cow  touch  that  is  any  way  hos- 
tile to  health.  Feed  young  puppies  upon  milk  from,  the 
cow,  and  they  will  never  die  with  that  ravaging  disease 
called  "  the  distemper."  In  short,  to  suppose  that 
milk  contains  any  thing  essentially  unwholesome  is 
monstrous.  When,  indeed,  the  appetite  becomes  vi- 
tiated :  when  the  organs  have  been  long  accustomed 
to  food  of  a  more  stimulating  nature ;  when  it  has  been 
resolved  to  eat  ragouts  at  dinner,  and  drink  wine,  and 
to  swallow  "  a  devil,"  and  a  glass  of  strong  grog  at 
night ;  then  milk  for  breakfast  may  be  "heavy  "  and 
disgusting,  and  the  feeder  may  stand  in  need  of  tea  or 
laudanum,  which  differ  only  as  to  degrees  of  strength. 
But,  and  I  speak  from  the  most  ample  experience, 
milk  is  not  "  heavy"  and  much  less  is  it  unwholesome, 
when  he  who  uses  it  rises  early,  never  swallows 


V.]  KEEPING  COWS.  81 

strong  drink,  and  never  stuffs  himself  with  flesh  of 
any  kind.  Many  and  many  a  day  I  scarcely  taste  of 
meat,  and  then  chiefly  at  breakfast,  and  that,  too,  at 
an  early  hour.  Milk  is  the  natural  food  of  young 
people;  if  it  be  too  rich,  skim  it  again  and  again  till 
it  be  not  too  rich.  This  is  an  evil  easily  cured.  If 
you  have  now  to  begin  with  a  family  of  children,  they 
may  not  like  it  at  first.  But  persevere;  and  the  parent 
who  does  not  do  this,  having  the  means  in  his  hands, 
shamefully  neglects  his  duty.  A  son  who  prefers  a 
"  devil "  and  a  glass  of  grog  to  a  hunch  of  bread  and 
a  bowl  of  cold  milk,  I  regard  as  a  pest ;  and  for  this 
pest  the  father  has  to  thank  himself. 

137.  Before  I  dismiss  this  article,  let  me  offer  an 
observation  or  two  to  those  persons  who  live  in  the 
vicinity  of  towns,  or  in  towns,  and  who,  though  they 
have  large  gardens,  have  "no  land  to  keep  a  cow?  a 
circumstance  which  they  "  exceedingly  regret"  I 
have.  I  dare  say,  witnessed  this  case  at  least  a  thou- 
sand times.  Now,  how  much  garden  ground  does  it 
require  to  supply  even  a  large  family  with  garden 
vegetables?  The  market  gardeners  round  the  metro- 
polis of  this  wen-headed  country ;  round  this  Wen  of 
all  wens ;  *  round  this  prodigious  and  monstrous  col- 
lection of  human  beings ;  these  market  gardeners  have 
about  three  hundred  thousand  families  to  supply  with 
vegetables,  and  these  they  supply  well  too,  and  with 
summer  fruits  into  the  bargain.  Now,  if  it  demanded 
ten  rods  to  a  family,  the  whole  would  demand,  all 
but  a  fraction,  nineteen  thousand  acres  of  garden 
ground.  We  have  only  to  cast  our  eyes  over  what 
there  is  to  know  that  there  is  not  &  fourth  of  that  quan- 
tity. A  square  mile  contains,  leaving  out  parts  of  a 
hundred,  700  acres  of  land ;  and  19,000  acres  occupy 
more  than  twenty-two  square  miles.  Are  there  twenty- 
two  square  miles  covered  with  the  Wen's  market  gar- 
dens? The  very  question  is  absurd.  The  whole  of  the 
market  gardens  from  Brompton  to  Hammersmith,  ex- 
tending to  Battersea  Rise  on  the  one  side,  and  to  the 
Bayswater  road  on  the  other  side,  ajid  leaving  out 

*  London. 


82  KEEPING  COW3.  [No. 

roads,  lanes,  nurseries,  pastures,  corn-fields,  and  plea- 
sure-grounds, do  not,  in  my  opinion,  cover  one  square 
mile.  To  the  north  and  south  of  the  Wen  there  is  very 
little  in  the  way  of  market  garden;  and  if,  on  both  sides 
of  the  Thames,  to  the  eastward  of  the  Wen,  there  be 
three  square  miles  actually  covered  with  market  gar- 
dens, that  is  the  full  extent.  How,  then,  could  the  Wen 
be  supplied,  if  it  required  ten  rods  to  each  family  ?  To 
be  sure,  potatoes,  carrots,  and  turnips,  and  especially 
the  first  of  these,  are  brought,  for  the  use  of  the  Wen, 
from  a  great  distance,  in  many  cases.  But,  so  they 
are  for  the  use  of  the  persons  I  am  speaking  of;  for  a 
gentleman  thinks  no  more  of  raising  a  large  quantity 
of  these  things  in  his  garden,  than  he  thinks  of  rais- 
ing wheat  there.  How  is  it,  then,  that  it  requires  half 
an  acre,  or  eighty  rods,  in  a  private  garden  to  supply  a 
family,  while  these  market  gardeners  supply  all  these 
families  (and  so  amply  too)  from  ten,  or  more  likely, 
five  rods  of  ground  to  a  family?  I  have  shown,  in 
the  last  Number,  that  nearly  fifteen  tons  of  vegetables 
can  be  raised  in  a  year  upon  forty  rods  of  ground  ; 
that  is  to  say,  ten  loads  for  a  wagon  and  four  good 
horses.  And  is  not  a  fourth,  or  even  an  eighth,  part 
of  this  weight,  sufficient  to  go  down  the  throats  of  a 
family  in  a  year  ?  Nay,  allow  that  only  a  ton  goes  to 
a  family  in  a  year,  it  is  more  than  six  pound  weight 
a  day;  and  what  sort  of  a  family  must  that  be  that 
really  swallows  six  pounds  weight  a  day  ?  and  this  a 
market  gardener  will  raise  for  them  upon  less  than 
three  rods  of  ground ;  for  he  will  raise,  in  the  course 
of  the  year,  even  more  than  fifteen  tons  upon  forty 
rods  of  ground.  What  is  it,  then,  that  they  do  with 
the  eighty  rods  of  ground  in  a  private  garden  ?  Why, 
in  the  first  place,  they  have  one  crop  where  they  ought 
to  have  three.  Then  they  do  not  half  till  the  ground. 
Then  they  grow  things  that  are  not  wanted.  Plant 
cabbages  and  other  things,  let  them  stand  till  they  be 
good  for  nothing,  and  then  wheel  them  to  the  rubbish 
heap.  Raise  as  many  radishes,  lettuces,  and  as  much 
endive,  and  as^many  kidney-beans,  as  would  serve 
for  ten  families ;  and  finally  throw  nine-tenths  of 


V.]  SEEPING  COWS.  83 

them  away.  I  once  saw  not  less  than  three  rods  of 
ground,  in  a  garden  of  this  sort,  with  lettuces  all  bear- 
ing seed.  Seed  enough  for  half  a  county.  They  cut 
a  cabbage  here  and  a  cabbage  there,  and  so  let  the 
whole  of  the  piece  of  ground  remain  undug,  till  the 
last  cabbage  be  cut.  But,  after  all,  the  produce,  even 
in  this  way,  is  so  great,  that  it  never  could  be  gotten 
rid  of,  if  the  main  part  were  not  thrown  away.  The 
rubbish  heap  always  receives  four-fifths  even  of  the 
eatable  part  of  the  produce. 

138.  It  is  not  thus  that  the  market  gardeners  pro- 
ceed. Their  rubbish  heap  consists  of  little  besides 
mere  cabbage  stumps.  No  sooner  is  one  crop  on  the 
ground  than  they  settle  in  their  minds  what  is  to  fol- 
low it.  They  clear  as  they  go  in  taking  off  a  crop, 
and,  as  they  clear  they  dig  and  plant.  The  ground  is 
never  without  seed  in  it  or  plants  on  it.  And  thus,  in 
the  course  of  the  year,  they  raise  a  prodigious  bulk  of 
vegetables  from  eighty  rods  of  ground.  Such  vigi- 
lance and  industry  are  not  to  be  expected  in  a  servant; 
for  it  is  foolish  to  expect  that  a  man  will  exert  him- 
self for  another  as  much  as  he  will  for  himself.  But  if 
I  was  situated  as  one  of  the  persons  is  that  I  have  spo- 
ken of  in  Paragraph  137 ;  that  is  to  say,  if  I  had  a  gar- 
den of  eighty  rods,  or  even  of  sixty  rods  of  ground,  I 
would  out  of  that  garden,  draw  a  sufficiency  of  vege- 
tables for  my  family,  and  would  make  it  yield  enough 
for  a  cow  besides.  I  should  go  a  short  way  to  work 
with  my  gardener.  I  should  put  Cottage  Economy 
into  his  hands,  and  tell  him,  that  if  he  could  furnisn 
me  with  vegetables,  and  my  cow  with  food,  he  was 
my  man  ;  and  that  if  he  could  not,  I  must  get  one  that 
could  and  would.  I  am  not  for  making  a  man  toil  like 
a  slave  ;  but  what  would  become  of  the  world,  if  a 
well-fed  healthy  man  could  exhaust  himself  in  tilling 
and  cropping  and  clearing  half  an  acre  of  ground?  I 
have  known  many  men  dig  thirty  rods  of  garden 
ground  in  a  day  ;  I  have,  before  I  was  fourteen,  digged 
twenty  rods  in  a  day,  for  more  than  ten  days  succes- 
sively ;  and  I  have  heard,  and  believe  the  fact,  of  a 
man  at  Portsea,  who  digged  forty  rods  in  one  single 


84  KEEPING  PIGS.  [NO. 

day,  between  daylight  and  dark.     So  that  it  is  no 
slavish  toil  that  I  am  here  recommending. 

KEEPING  PIGS. 

139.  NEXT  after  the  Cow  comes  the  Pig;  and,  in. 
many  cases,  where  a  cow  cannot  be  kept,  a  pig  or 
pigs  may  be  kept.     But  these  are  animals  not  to  be 
ventured    on   without   due   consideration   as  to  the 
means  of  feeding  them  ;  for  a  starved  pig  is  a  great 
deal  worse  than  none  at  all.     You  cannot  make  ba- 
con as  you  can  milk,  merely  out  of  the  garden.  There 
must  be  something  more.    A  couple  of  flitches  of  ba- 
con are  worth  fifty  thousand  Methodist  sermons  and 
religious  tracts.     The  sight  of  them  upon  the  rack 
tends  more  to  keep  a  man  from  poaching  and  stealing 
than  whole  volumes  of  penal  statutes,  though  assisted 
by  the  terrors  of  the  hulks  and  the  gibbet.     They  are 
great  softeners  of  the  temper,  and  promoters  of  do- 
mestic harmony.     They  are  a  great  blessing;  but 
they  are  not  to  be  had  from  herbage  or  roots  of  any 
kind  ;  and,  therefore,  before  a  pig  be  attempted,  the 
means  ought  to  be  considered. 

140.  Breeding  sows  are  great  favourites  with  Cot- 
tagers in  general ;  but  I  have  seldom  known  them  to 
answer  their  purpose.     Where  there  is  an  outlet,  the 
sow  will,  indeed,  keep  herself  by  grazing  in  summer, 
with  a  little  wash  to  help  her  out :  and  when  her  pigs 
come,  they  are  many  in  number ;  but  they  are  a  heavy 
expense.     The  sow  must  live  as  well  as  a  fatting' 
hog)  or  the  pigs  will  be  good  for  little.     It  is  a  great 
mistake,  too,  to  suppose  that  the  condition  of  the  sow 
previous  to  pigging  is  of  no  consequence  ;  and,  in- 
deed, some  suppose,  that  she  ought  to  be  rather  bare 
offiesh  at  the  pigging  time.     Never  was  a  greater 
mistake;  for  if  she  be  in  this  state,  she  presently  be- 
comes a  mere  rack  of  bones  ;  and  then,  do  what  you 
will,  the  pigs  will  be  poor  things.     However  fat  she 
may  be  before  she  farrow,  the  pigs  will  make  her  lean 
in  a  week.     All  her  fat  goes  away  in  her  milk,  and 
unless  the  pigs  have  a  store  to  draw  upon,  they  pull 


V.]  KEEPING  PIGS.  85 

her  down  directly ;  and,  by  the  time  they  are  three 
weeks  old,  they  are  starving  for  want ;  and  then  they 
never  come  to  good. 

141.  Now,  a  cottager's  sow  cannot,  without  great 
expense,  be  kept  in  a  way  to  enable  her  to  meet  the 
demands  of  her  farrow.  She  may  look  pretty  well ; 
but  the  flesh  she  has  upon  her  is  not  of  the  same  na- 
ture as  that  which  the  farm-yard  sow  carries  about 
her.  It  is  the  result  of  grass,  and  of  poor  grass,  too, 
or  other  weak  food ;  and  not  made  partly  out  of  corn 
and  whey  and  strong  wash,  as  in  the  case  of  the  far- 
mer's sow.  No  food  short  of  that  of  a  fatting  hog 
will  enable  her  to  keep  her  pigs  alive ;  and  this  she 
must  have  for  ten  weeks,  and  that  at  a  great  expense. 
Then  comes  the  operation,  upon  the  principle  of 
Parson  Malihus,  in  order  to  check  population;  and 
there  is  some  risk  here,  though  not  very  great.  But 
there  is  the  weaning;  and  who,  that  knows  any  thing 
about  the  matter,  will  think  lightly  of  the  weaning 
of  a  farrow  of  pigs  !  By  having  nice  food  given  them, 
they  seem,  for  a  few  days,  not  to  miss  their  mother. 
But  their  appearance  soon  shows  the  want  of  her. 
Nothing  but  the  very  best  food,  and  that  given  in  the 
most  judicious  manner,  will  keep  them  up  to  any 
thing  like  good  condition ;  and,  indeed,  there  is 
nothing  short  of  milk  that  will  effect  the  thing  well. 
How  should  it  be  otherwise  ?  The  very  richest  cow's 
milk  is  poor,  compared  with  that  of  the  sow;  and,  to 
be  taken  from  this  and  put  upon  food,  one  ingredient 
of  which  is  water,  is  quite  sufficient  to  reduce  the 
poor  little  things  to  bare  bones  and  staring  hair,  a 
state  to  which  cottagers'  pigs  very  soon  come  in 
general ;  and,  at  last,  he  frequently  drives  them  to 
market,  and  sells  them  for  less  than  the  cost  of  the 
food  which  they  and  the  sow  have  devoured  since  they 
were  farrowed.  It  was,  doubtless,  pigs  of  this  descrip- 
tion that  were  sold  the  other  day  at  Newbury  market, 
for  fifteen  pence  a  piece,  and  which  were,  I  dare 
sayj  dear  even  as  a  gift.  To  get  such  a  pig  to  begin 
to  grow  will  require  three  months,  and  with  good 
feeding  too  in  winter  time.  To  be  sure  it  does  come 
8 


86  KEEPING  PIGS.  [NO. 

to  be  a  hog  at  last ;  but,  do  what  you  can,  it  is  a 
dear  hog. 

142.  The  Cottager ',  then,  can  hold  no  competition 
with  the  Farmer  in  the  breeding  of  pigs,  to  do  which, 
with  advantage,  there  must  be  milk,  and  milk,  too, 
that  can  be  advantageously  applied  to  no  other  use. 
The  cottager's  pig  must  be  bought  ready  weaned  to 
his  hand,  and,  indeed,  at  four  months  old,  at  which 
age,  if  he  be  in  good  condition,  he  will  eat  any-thing 
that  an  old  hog  will  eat.  He  will  graze,  eat  cabbage 
leaves,  and  almost  the  stumps.  Swedish  turnip  tops 
or  roots,  and  such  things,  with  a  little  wash,  will 
keep  him  along  in  very  good  growing  order.  I  have 
now  to  speak  of  the  time  of  purchasing,  the  manner 
of  keeping,  of  fatting,  killing,  and  curing ;  but  these 
I  must  reserve  till  my  next  Number. 


No.  VI. 
KEEPING  PIGS — {continued.) 

143.  As  in  the  case  of  cows  so  in  that  of  pigs, 
much  must  depend  upon  the  situation  of  the  cottage ; 
because  all  pigs  will  graze;  and  therefore,  on  the 
skirts  of  forests  or  commons,  a  couple  or  three  pigs 
may  be  kept,  if  the  family  be  considerable ;  and  es- 
pecially if  the  cottager  brew  his  own  beer,  which  will 
give  him  grains  to  assist  the  wash.     Even  in  lanes. 
or  on  the  sides  of  great  roads,  a  pig  will  find  a  good 
part  of  his  food  from  May  to  November;  and  if  he  be 
yoked,  the  occupiers  of  the  neighbourhood  must  be 
churlish  and  brutish  indeed,  if  they  give  the  owner 
any  annoyance. 

144.  Let  me  break  off  here  for  a  moment  to  point 
out  to  my  readers  the  truly  excellent  conduct  of  Lord 
WINCHILSEA  and   Lord    STANHOPE,  who,  as  I  read, 
have  taken  great  pains  to  make  the  labourers  on  their 
estates  comfortable,  by  allotting  to  each  a  piece  of 
ground  sufficient  for  tne  keeping  of  a  cow.     I  once, 


VI.]  KEEPING  PIGS.  87 

when  I  lived  at  Botley,  proposed  to  the  copyholders 
and  other  farmers  in  my  neighbourhood,  that  we 
should  petition  the  Bishop  of  Winchester,  who  was 
lord  of  the  manors  thereabouts,  to  grant  titles  to  all 
the  numerous  persons  called  trespassers  on  the  wastes; 
and  also  to  give  titles  to  others  of  the  poor  parishion- 
ers, who  were  willing  to  make,  on  the  skirts  of  the 
wastes,  enclosures  not  exceeding  an  acre  each.  This 
I  am  convinced,  would  have  done  a  great  deal  towards 
relieving  the  parishes,  then  greatly  burdened  by  men 
out  of  work.  This  would  have  been  better  than  dig- 
ging holes  one  day  to  fill  them  up  the  next.  Not  a 
single  man  would  agree  to  my  proposal !  One,  a  bull- 
frog farmer  (now,  I  hear,  pretty  well  sweated  down,) 
said  it  would  only  make  them  saucy  !  And  one,  a 
true  disciple  of  Malthus,  said,  that  to  facilitate  their 
rearing  of  children  was  a  harm  !  This  man  had,  at 
the  time,  in  his  own  occupation,  land  that  had  formerly 
been  six  farms,  and  he  had,  too,  ten  or  a  dozen  chil- 
dren. I  will  not  mention  names ;  but  this  farmer 
will  now,  perhaps,  have  occasion  to  call  to  mind  what 
I  told  him  on  that  day,  when  his  opposition,  and  par- 
ticularly the  ground  of  it,  gave  me  the  more  pain,  as 
he  was  a  very  industrious,  civil,  and  honest  man. 
Never  was  there  a  greater  mistake  than  to  suppose 
that  men  are  made  saucy  and  idle  by  just  and  kind 
treatment.  Slaves  are  always  lazy  and  saucy ;  no- 
thing but  the  lash  will  extort  from  them  either  labour 
or  respectful  deportment.  I  never  met  with  a  saucy 
Yankee  (New  Englander)  in  my  life.  Never  servile ; 
always  civil.  This  must  necessarily  be  the  character 
of  freemen  living  in  a  state  of  competence.  They 
have  nobody  to  envy  ;  nobody  to  complain  of;  they 
are  in  good  humour  with  mankind.  Ii  must,  how- 
ever, be  confessed,  that  very  little,  comparatively 
speaking,  is  to  be  accomplished  by  the  individual  ef- 
forts even  of  benevolent  men  like  the  two  noblemen 
before  mentioned.  They  have  a  strife  to  maintain 
against  the  general  tendency  of  the  national  state  of 
thing's.  It  is  by  general  and  indirect  means,  and  not 
by  partial  and  direct  and  positive  regulations,  that  so 


88  KEEPING  PIGS.  [No. 

great  a  good  as  that  which  they  generously  aim  at 
can  be  accomplished.  When  we  are  to  see  such 
means  adopted,  God  only  knows ;  but?  if  much  longer 
delayed,  I  am  ot  opinion,  that  they  will  come  too  late 
to  prevent  something  very  much  resembling  a  disso- 
lution of  society. 

145.  The  cottager's  pig  should  be  bought  in  the 
spring,  or  late  in  winter ;  and  being  then  four  months 
old,  he  will  be  a  year  old  before  killing  time ;  for  it 
should  always  be  borne  in  mind,  that  this  age  is 
required  in  order  to  insure  the  greatest  quantity  of 
meat  from  a  given  quantity  of  food.  If  a  hog  be  more 
than  a  year  old,  he  is  the  better  for  it.  The  flesh  is 
more  solid  and  more  nutritious  than  that  of  a  young 
hog,  much  in  the  same  degree  that  the  mutton  of  a 
full-mouthed  wether  is  better  than  that  of  a  younger 
wether.  The  rjork  or  bacon  of  young  hogs,  even  if 
fatted  on  corn,  is  very  apt  to  boil  out,  as  they  call  it ; 
that  is  to  say,  come  out  of  the  pot  smaller  in  bulk 
than  it  goes  in.  When  you  begin  to  fat,  do  it  by  de- 
grees, especially  in  the  case  of  hogs  under  a  year  old. 
If  you  feed  high  all  at  once,  the  hog  is  apt  to  surfeit, 
and  then  a  great  loss  of  food  takes  place.  Peas,  or 
barley-meal  is  the  food ;  the  latter  rather  the  best,  and 
does  the  work  quicker.  Make  him  quite  fat  by  all 
means.  The  last  bushel,  even  if  he  sit  as  he  eat,  is 
the  most  profitable.  If  he  can  walk  two  hundred 
yards  at  a  time,  he  is  not  well  fatted.  Lean  bacon 
is  the  most  wasteful  thing  that  any  family  can  use. 
In  short,  it  is  uneatable,  except  by  drunkards,  who 
want  something  to  stimulate  their  sickly  appetite. 
The  man  who  cannot  live  on  solid  fat  bacon,  well- 
fed  and  well-cured,  wants  the  sweet  sauce  of  labour, 
or  is  fit  for  the  hospital.  But,  then,  it  must  be  bacon, 
the  effect  of  barley  or  peas,  (not  beans,)  and  not  of 
whey,  potatoes,  or  messes  of  any  kind.  It  is  frequent- 
ly said,  and  I  know  that  even  farmers  say  it,  that 
bacon,  made  from  corn,  costs  more  than  it  is  worth! 
Why  do  they  take  care  to  have  it  then  ?  They  know 
better.  They  know  well,  that  it  is  the  very  cheapest 
they  can  have ;  and  they,  who  look  at  both  ends  and 


VI.]  KEEPING  PIGS.  89 

both  sides  of  every  cost,  would  as  soon  think  of  shoot- 
ing their  hogs  as  of  fatting  them  on  messes;  that  is 
to  say,  for  their  own  use,  however  willing  they  might 
now-and-then  be  to  regale  the  Londoners  with  a  bit 
of  potato-pork. 

146.  About  Christmas,  if  the  weather  be  coldish, 
is  a  good  time  to  kill.  If  the  weather  be  very  mild, 
you  may  wait  a  little  longer ;  for  the  hog  cannot  be 
too  fat.  The  day  before  killing  he  should  have  no 
food.  To  kill  a  hog  nicely  is  so  much  of  a  profes^ 
sion,  that  it  is  better  to  pay  a  shilling  for  having  it 
done,  than  to  stab  and  hack  and  tear  the  carcass  about. 
I  shall  not  speak  of  pork ;  for  I  would  by  no  means 
recommend  it.  There  are  two  ways  of  going  to  work 
to  make  bacon ;  in  the  one  you  take  off  the  hair  by 
scalding.  This  is  the  practice  in  most  parts  of  Eng- 
land, and  all  over  America.  But  the  Hampshire  way, 
and  the  best  way,  is  to  burn  the  hair  off'.  There  is  a 

treat  deal  of  difference  in  the  consequences.  The 
rst  method  slackens  the  skin,  opens  all  the  pores  of 
it,  makes  it  loose  and  flabby  by  drawing  out  the  roots 
of  the  hair.  The  second  tightens  the  skin  in  every 
part,  contracts  all  the  sinews  and  veins  in  the  skin, 
makes  the  flitch  a  solider  thing,  and  the  skin  a  better 
protection  to  the  meat.  The  taste  of  the  meat  is  very 
different  from  that  of  a  scalded  hog;  and  to  this  chiefly 
it  was  that  Hampshire  bacon  owed  its  reputation  for 
excellence.  As  the  hair  is  to  be  burnt  off  it  must  be 
dry,  and  care  must  be  taken,  that  the  hog  be  kept  on  dry 
litter  of  some  sort  the  day  previous  to  killing.  When 
killed  he  is  laid  upon  a  narrow  bed  of  straw,  not 
wider  than  his  carcass,  and  only  two  or  three  inches 
thick.  He  is  then  covered  all  over  thinly  with  straw, 
to  which,  according  as  the  wind  may  be,  the  fire  is 

Eut  at  one  end.     As  the  straw  burns,  it  burns  the 
air.  It  requires  two  or  three  coverings  and  burnings, 
and  care  is  taken,  that  the  skin  be  not  in  any  part  burnt, 
or  parched.    When  the  hair  is  all  burnt  off  close,  the 
hog  is  scraped  clean,  but  never  touched  with  water. 
The  upper  side  being  finished,  the  hog  is  turned  over, 
and  the  other  side  is  treated  in  like  manner.     This 
8* 


90  KEEPING  PIGS.  [No. 

work  should  always  be  done  before  day-light ;  for  in 
the  day-light  you  cannot  so  nicely  discover  whether 
the  hair  be  sufficiently  burnt  off.  The  light  of  the 
fire  is  weakened  by  that  of  the  day.  Besides,  it  makes 
the  boys  get  up  very  early  for  once  at  any  rate,  and 
that  is  something ;  for  boys  always  like  a  bonfire. 

147.  The  inwards  are  next  taken  out,  and  if  the 
wife  be  not  a  slattern,  here,  in  the  mere  offal,  in  the 
mere  garbage,  there  is  food,  and  delicate  food  too,  for 
a  large  family  for  a  week;  and  hog's  puddings  for 
the  children,  and  some  for  neighbours'  children,  who 
come  to  play  with  them ;  for  these  things  are  by  no 
means  to  be  overlooked,  seeing  that  they  tend  to  the 
keeping  alive  of  that  affection  in  children   for  their 
parents,  which,  laterinlife, will  be  found  absolutely  ne- 
cessary to  give  effect  to  wholesome  precept,  especially 
when  opposed  to  the  boisterous  passions  of  youth. 

148.  The  butcher,  the  next  day,  cuts  the  hog  up; 
and  then  the  house  is  filled  with  meat !    Souse,  gris- 
kins,  blade-bones,   thigh-bones,    spare-ribs,    chines, 
belly-pieces,  cheeks,  all  coming  into  use  one  after  the 
other,  and  the  last  of  the  latter  not  before  the  end 
of  about  four  or  five  weeks.     But  about  this  time,  it 
is  more  than  possible  that  the  Methodist  parson  will 
pay  you  a  visit.    It  is  remarked  in  America,  that  these 
gentry  are  attracted  by  the  squeaking  of  the  pigs,  as 
the  fox  is  by  the  cackling  of  the  hen.     This  may  be 
called  slander;  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  did  know 
to  happen.   A  good  honest  careful  fellow  had  a  spare- 
rib,  on  which  he  intended  to  sup  with  his  family  after 
a  long  and  hard  day's  work  at  coppice-cutting.   Home 
he  came  at  dark  with  his  two  little  boys,  each  with 
a  nitch  of  wood  that  they  had  carried  four  miles, 
cheered  with  the  thought  of  the  repast  that  awaited 
them.     In  he  went,  found  his  wife,  the  Methodist 
parson,  and  a  whole  troop  of  the  sisterhood,  engaged 
in  prayer,  and  on  the  table  lay  scattered  the  clean- 
polished  bones  of  the  spare-rib  !   Can  any  reasonable 
creature  believe,  that,  to  save  the  soul,  God  requires 
us  to  give  up  the  food  necessary  to  sustain  the  body  ? 
Did  Saint  Paul  preach  this  ?    He,  who,  while  he 


VI.]  KEEPING  PIGS.  01 

spread  the  gospel  abroad,  worked  himself "  in  order  to 
have  it  to  give  to  those  who  were  unable  to  work? 
Upon  what,  then,  do  these  modern  saints ;  these  evan- 
gelical gentlemen,  found  their  claim  to  live  on  the 
labour  of  others. 

149.  All  the  other  parts  taken  away,  the  two  sides 
that  remain,  and  that  are  called  flitches,  are  to  be 
cured  for  bacon.  They  are  first  rubbed  with  salt  on 
their  insides,  or  flesh  sides,  then  placed,  one  on  the 
other,  the  flesh  sides  uppermost,  in  a  salting  trough 
whicli  has  a  gutter  round  its  edges  to  drain  away  the 
brine;  for,  to  have  sweet  and  fine  bacon,  the  flitches 
must  not  lie  sopping  in  brine;  which  <*ives  it  that  sort 
of  taste  which  barrel-pork  and  sea-jonk  have,  and 
than  which  nothing  is  more  villanous.  Every  one 
knows  how  different  is  the  taste  of  fresh,  dry  salt, 
from  that  of  salt  in  a  dissolved  state.  The  one  is 
savoury,  the  other  nauseous.  Therefore,  change  the 
salt  often.  Once  in  four  or  five  days.  Let  it  melt, 
and  sink  in  ;  but  let  it  not  lie  too  long.  Change  the 
flitches.  Put  that  at  bottom  which  was  first  put  on  the 
top.  Do  this  a  couple  of  times.  This  mode  will  cost 
you  a  great  deal  more  in  salt,  or  rather  in  taxes,  than 
the  sopping  mode;  but  without  it,  your  bacon  will 
not  be  sweet  and  fine,  and  will  not  keep  so  well.  As 
to  the  time  required  for  making  the  fiitches-sufficiently 
salt,  it  depends  on  circumstances ;  the  thickness  of 
the  flitch,  the  state  of  the  weather,  the  place  wherein 
the  salting  is  going  on.  It  takes  a  longer  time  for  a 
thick  than  for  a  thin  flitch  ;  it  takes  longer  in  dry,  than 
in  damp  weather ;  it  takes  longer  in  a  dry  than  in  a 
damp  place.  But  for  the  flitches  of  a  hog  of  twelve 
score,  in  weather  not  very  dry  or  very  damp,  about  six 
weeks  may  do ;  and  as  yours  is  to  be  fat,  which 
receives  little  injury  from  over-salting,  give  time 
enough ;  for  you  are  to  have  bacon  till  Christmas 
comes  again.  The  place  for  salting  should,  like  a 
dairy,  always  be  cool,  but  always  admit  of  a  free  cir- 
culation of  air :  confined  air,  though  cool,  will  taint 
meat  sooner  than  trie  mid-day  sun  accompanied  with 
a  breeze.  Ice  will  not  melt  in  the  hottest  sun  so  soon 


92  KEEPING  PIGS.  [No. 

as  in  a  close  and  damp  cellar.  Put  a  lump  of  ice  in 
cold  water,  and  one  of  the  same  size  before  a  hotjire, 
and  the  former  will  dissolve  in  half  the  time  that  the 
latter  will.  Let  me  take  this  occasion  of  observing, 
that  an  ice-house  should  never  be  under  ground^  or 
under  the  shade  of  trees.  That  the  bed  of  it  ought 
to  be  three  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ground ;  that 
this  bed  ought  to  consist  of  something  that  will  admit 
the  drippings  to  go  instantly  off;  and  that  the  house 
should  stand  in  a  place  open  to  the  sun  and  air.  This 
is  the  way  they  have  the  ice-houses  under  the  burn- 
ing sun  of  Virginia ;  and  here  they  keep  their  fish  and 
meat  as  fresh  and  sweet  as  in  winter,  when  at  the 
same  time  neither  will  keep  for  twelve  hours,  though 
let  down  to  the  depth  of  a  hundred  feet  in  a  well. 
A  Virginian,  with  some  poles  and  straw,  will  stick 
up  an  ice-house  for  ten  dollars,  worth  a  dozen  of  those 
ice-houses,  each  of  which  costs  our  men  of  taste  as 
many  scores  of  pounds.  It  is  very  hard  to  imagine, 
indeed,  what  any  one  should  want  ice  for,  in  a  country 
like  this,  except  for  clodpole  boys  to  slide  upon,  and  to 
drown  cockneys  in  skaiting-time ;  but  if  people  must 
have  ice  in  summer,  they  may  as  well  go  a  right  way 
as  a  wrong  way  to  get  it. 

150.  However,  the  patient  that  I  have  at  this  time 
under  my  hands  wants  nothing  to  cool  his  blood,  but 
something  to  warm  it,  and,  therefore,  I  will  get  back 
to  the  flitches  of  bacon,  which  are  now  to  be  smoked; 
for  smoking  is  a  great  deal  better  than  merely  drying, 
as  is  the  fashion  in  the  dairy  countries  in  the  West  of 
England.  When  there  were  plenty  of  /arm-houses, 
there  were  plenty  of  places  to  smoke  bacon  in;  since 
farmers  have  lived  in  gentleman's  houses,  and  the 
main  part  of  the  farm-houses  have  been  knocked 
down,  these  places  are  not  so  plenty.  However,  there 
is  scarcely  any  neighbourhood  without  a  chimney  left 
to  hang  bacon  up  in.  Two  precautions  are  necessary : 
first,  to  hang  the  flitches  where  no  rain  comes  down 
upon  them :  second,  not  to  let  them  be  so  near  the  fire 
as  to  melt.  These  precautions  taken,  the  next  is,  that 
the  smoke  must  proceed  from  wood^  not  turf,  peat,  or 


VI.]  KEEPING  PIGS.  03 

coal.  Stubble  or  litter  .might  do ;  but  the  trouble  would 
be  great.  Fir,  or  deal,  smoke  is  not  fit  for  the  pur- 
pose. I  take  it,  that  the  absence  of  wood,  as  fuel,  in 
the  dairy  countries,  and  in  the  North,  has  led  to  the 
making  of  pork  and  dried  bacon.  As  to  the  time  that 
it  requires  to  smoke  a  flitch,  it  must  depend  a  good 
deal  upon  whether  there  be  a  constant  fire  beneath, 
and  whether  the  fire  be  large  or  small.  A  month  may 
do,  if  the  fire  be  pretty  constant,  and  such  as  a  farm- 
house fire  usually  is.  But  over  smoking,  or,  rather, 
too  long  hanging  in  the  air,  makes  the  bacon  rust. 
Great  attention  should,  therefore,  be  paid  to  this 
matter.  The  flitch  ought  not  be  dried  up  10  the  hard- 
ness of  a  board,  and  yet  it  ought  to  be  perfectly  dry. 
Before  you  hang  it  up,  lay  it  on  the  floor,  scatter  the 
flesh-side  pretty  thickly  over  with  bran,  or  with  some 
fine  saw-dust  other  than  that  of  deal  or  fir.  Rub  it 
on  the  flesh,  or  pat  it  well  down  upon  it.  This  keeps 
the  smoke  from  getting  into  the  little  openings,  and 
makes  a  sort  of  crust  to  be  dried  on ;  and,  in  short, 
keeps  the  flesh  cleaner  than  it  would  otherwise  be. 

151.  To  keep  the  bacon  sweet  and  good,  and  free 
from  nasty  things  that  they  call  hoppers;  that  is  to 
say,  a  sort  of  skipping  maggots,  engendered  by  a  fly 
which  has  a  great  relish  for  bacon  :  to  provide  against 
this  mischief,  and  also  to  keep  the  bacon  from  be- 
coming rusty,  the  Americans,  whose  country  is  so 
hot  in  summer,  have  two  methods.  They  smoke  no 
part  of  the  ho^  except  the  hams,  or  gammons.  They 
cover  these  with  coarse  linen  cloth  such  as  the  finest 
hop-bags  are  made  of,  which  they  sew  neatly  on. 
They  then  white-wash  the  cloth. all  over  with  lime 
white-wash,  such  as  we  put  on  walls,  their  lime  be- 
ing excellent  stone-lime.  They  give  the  ham  four  or 
five  washings,  the  one  succeeding  as  the  former  gets 
dry;  and  in  the  sun,  all  these  washings  are  put  on  in 
a  few  hours.  The  flies  cannot  get  through  this ;  and 
thus  the  meat  is  preserved  from  them.  The  other 
mode,  and  that  is  the  mode  for  you,  is,  to  sift  fine 
some  clean  and  dry  wood-ashes.  Put  some  at  the 
bottom  of  a  box,  or  chest,  which  is  long  enough  to 


94  KEEPING  PIGS-  [No. 

hold  a  flitch  of  bacon.  Lay  in  one  flitch ;  then  put 
in  more  ashes ;  then  the  other  flitch  ;  and  then  cover 
this  with  six  or  eight  inches  of  the  ashes.  This  will 
effectually  keep  away  all  flies ;  and  will  keep  the 
bacon  as  fresh  and  good  as  when  it  came  out  of  the 
chimney,  which  it  will  not  be  for  any  great  length  of 
time,  if  put  on  a  rack,  or  kept  hung  up  in  the  open  air. 
Dust,  or  even  sand,  very,  very  dry,  would,  perhaps, 
do  as  well.  The  object  is  not  only  to  keep  out  the 
flies,  but  the  air.  The  place  where  the  chest,  or  box. 
is  kept,  ought  to  be  dry ;  and,  if  the  ashes  should 
get  damp  (as  they  are  apt  to  do  from  the  salts  they 
contain,)  they  should  be  put  in  the  fire-place  to  dry, 
and  then  be  put  back  again.  Peat-ashes,  or  turf-ashes, 
might  do  very  well  for  this  purpose.  With  these 
precautions,  the  bacon  will  be  as  good  at  the  end  of 
the  year  as  on  the  first  day ;  and  it  will  keep  two,  and 
even  three  years,  perfectly  good,  for  which,  however, 
there  can  be  no  necessity. 

152.  Now,  then,  this  hog  is  altogether  a  capital 
thing.  The  other  parts  will  be  meat  for  about  four 
or  five  weeks.  The  lard,  nicely  put  down,  will  last 
a  long  while  for  all  the  purposes  for  which  it  is  wanted. 
To  make  it  keep  well  there  should  be  some  salt  put 
into  it.  Country  children  are  badly  brought  up  if 
they  do  not  like  sweet  lard  spread  upon  bread,  as  we 
spread  butter.  Many  a  score  hunches  of  this  sort 
have  I  eaten,  and  I  never  knew  what  poverty  was.  I 
have  eaten  it  for  luncheon  at  the  houses  of  good  sub- 
stantial farmers  in  France  and  Flanders.  I  am  not 
now  frequently  so  hungry  as  I  ought  to  be  ;  but  I 
should  think  it  no  hardship  to  eat  sweet  lard  instead 
of  butter.  But,  now-a-days,  the  labourers,  and  espe- 
cially the  female  part  of  them,  have  fallen  into  the 
taste  of  niceness  in  food  and  finery  in  dress  ;  a  quarter 
of  a  bellyful  and  rags  are  the  consequence.  The  food 
of  their  choice  is  high-priced,  so  that,  for  the  greater 
part  of  their  time,  they  are  half-starved.  The  dress 
of  their  choice  is  showy  and  flimsy,  so  that,  to-day, 
they  are  ladies,  and  to-morrow  ragged  as  sheep  with 
the  scab.  But  has  not  Nature  made  the  country  girls 


VI.]  KEEPING  PIGS.  95 

as  pretty  as  ladies  ?  Oh,  yes !  (bless  their  rosy  cheeks 
and  white  teeth  !)  and  a  great  deal  prettier  too  !  But 
are  they  less  pretty,  when  their  dress  is  plain  and 
substantial,  and  when  the  natural  presumption  is, 
that  they  have  smocks  as  well  as  gowns,  than  they 
are  when  drawn  off  in  the  frail  fabric  of  Sir  Robert 
Peel,*  "where  tawdry  colours  strive  with  dirty  white," 
exciting  violent  suspicions  that  all  is  not  as  it  ought 
to  be  nearer  the  skin,  and  calling  up  a  train  of  ideas 
extremely  hostile  to  that  sort  of  feeling  which  every 
lass  innocently  and  commendably  wishes  to  awaken 
in  her  male  beholders?  Are  they  prettiest  when  they 
come  through  the  wet  and  dirt  safe  and  neat;  or  when 
their  draggled  dress  is  plastered  to  their  backs  by  a 
shower  of  rain  ?  However,  the  fault  has  not  been 
theirs,  nor  that  of  their  parents.  It  is  the  system  of 
managing  the  affairs  of  the  nation.  This  system 
has  made  all  flashy  and  false,  and  has  put  all  things 
out  of  their  place.  Pomposity,  bombast,  hyperbole, 
redundancy,  and  obscurity,  both  in  speaking  and  in 
writing  ;  mock-delicacy  in  manners ;  mock-liberality, 
mock-humanity,  and  mock-religion.  Pitt's  false  mo- 
ney, Peel's  flimsy  dresses,  Wilberforce's  potatoe  diet, 
Castlereagh's  and  Mackintosh's  oratory,  Walter 
Scott's  poems,  Walter's  and  Stoddart'sj  paragraphs, 
with  all  the  bad  taste  and  baseness  and  hypocrisy 
which  they  spread  over  this  country;  all  have  arisen, 
grown,  branched  out,  bloomed,  and  borne  together; 
and  we  are  now  beginning  to  taste  of  their  fruit.  But, 
as  the  fat  of  the  adder  is,  as  is  said,  the  antidote  to 
its  sting ;  so  in  the  Son  of  the  great  worker  of  Spinning- 
Jennies,  we  have,  thanks  to  the  Proctors  and  Doctors 
of  Oxford,  the  author  of  that  Bill,  before  which  this 
false,  this  flashy,  this  flimsy,  this  rotten  system  will 
dissolve  as  one  of  his  father's  pasted  calicoes  does  at 
the  sight  of  the  washing-tub. 

133.  "  What,"  says  the  cottager,  "has  all  this  to  do 
with  hogs  and  bacon  ?"     Not  directly  with  hogs  and 

*  The  father  of  the  present  Sir  Robert  Peel,  who  gained  his  fortune  M 
a  cotton  weaver  by  the  help  of  machinery. 

*  Editors  of  the  Ixwidon  Times  Newspaper. 


96  KEEPING  PIGS.  [NO. 

bacon,  indeed ;  but  it  has  a  great  deal  to  do,  my  good 
fellow  with  your  affairs,  as  I  shall,  probably,  hereafter 
more  fully  show,  though  I  shall  now  leave  you  to 
the  enjoyment  of  your  flitches  of  bacon,  which,  as  I 
before  observed,  will  do  ten  thousand  times  more  than 
any  Methodist  parson,  or  any  other  parson  (except,  of 
course,  those  of  our  church)  to  make  you  happy,  not 
only  in  this  world,  but  in  the  world  to  come.  Meat 
in  the  house  is  a  great  source  of  harmony,  a  great 
preventer  of  the  temptation  to  commit  those  things, 
which,  from  small  beginnings,  lead,  finally,  to  the 
most  fatal  and  atrocious  results ;  and  I  hold  that 
doctrine  to  be  truly  damnable,  which  teaches  that 
God  has  made  any  selection,  any  condition  relative  to 
belief,  which  is  to  save  from  punishment  those  who 
violate  the  principles  of  natural  justice. 

154.  Some  other  meat  you  may  have ;  but,  bacon 
is  the  great  thing.     It  is  always  ready  ;  as  good  cold 
as  hot ;  goes  to  the  field  or  the  coppice  conveniently; 
in  harvest,  and  other  busy  times,  demands  the  pot  to 
be  boiled  only  on  a  Sunday  ;  has  twice  as   much 
strength  in  it  as  any  other  thing  of  the  same  weight; 
and  in  short,  has   in  it  every  quality  that  tends  to 
make  a  labourer's  family  able  to  work  and  well  off. 
One  pound  of  bacon,  such  as  that  which  I  have  de- 
scribed, is,  in  a  labourer's  family,  worth  four  or  five 
of  ordinary  mutton  or  beef,  which  are  great  part  bone, 
and  which,  in   short,  are  gone  in  a  moment.     But 
always  observe,  it   is  fat  bacon  that  I  am  talking 
about.     There  will,  in  spite  of  all  that  can  be  done, 
be  some  lean  in  the  gammons,  though  comparatively 
very  little ;  and  therefore  you  ought  to  begin  at  that 
end  of  the  flitches ;  for,  old  lean  bacon  is  not  good. 

155.  Now,  as  to  the  cost.     A  pig  (a  spayed  sow  is 
best)  bought  in  March  four  months  old,  can  be  had 
now  for  fifteen  shillings.     The  cost  till  fatting  time 
is  next  to  nothing  to  a  Cottager ;  and  then  the  cost, 
at  the  present  price  of  corn,  would,  for  a  hog   of 
twelve  score,  not  exceed  three  pounds  ;  in  the  whole 

four  pounds  Jive ;  a  pot  of  poison  a  week  bought 
at  the  public-house  comes  to  twenty-six  shillings 


VI.]  SALTING  MUTTON  AND  BEEP.  07 

of  the  money ;  and  more  than  three  times  the  re- 
mainder is  generally  flung  away  upon  the  miserable 
tea,  as  I  have  clearly  shown  in  the  First  Number,  at 
Paragraph  24.  I  have,  indeed,  there  shown,  that 
if  the  tea  were  laid  aside,  the  labourer  might  supply 
his  family  well  with  beer  all  the  year  round,  and  have 
a  fat  hog  of  even  fifteen  score  for  the  cost  ofthe-tea, 
which  does  him  and  can  do  him  no  good  at  all. 

156.  The  feet,  the  cheeks,  and  other  bone,  being 
considered,  the  bacon  and  lard,  taken  together,  would 
not  exceed  sixpence  a  pound.    Irish  bacon  is  "  cheap- 
er."    Yes,  lower-priced.     But,  I  will  engage  that  a 
pound  of  mine,  wnen  it  comes  out  of  the  pot  (to  say 
nothing  of  the  taste,)  shall  weigh  as  much  as  a  pound 
and  a  half  of  Irish,  or  any  dairy  or  slop-fed  bacon, 
when  that  comes  out  of  the  pot.     No,  no:  the  far- 
mers joke  when  they  say,  that  their  bacon  costs  them 
more  than  they  could  buy  bacon  for.     They  know 
well  what  it  is  they  are  doing;  and   besides,  they 
always  forget,  or,  rather,  remember  not  to  say,  that 
the  fatting  of  a  large  hog  yields  them  three  or  four 
load  of  dung,  really  worth  more  than  ten  or  fifteen  of 
common  yard  dung.    In  short,  without  hogs,  farming 
could  not  go  on;  and  it  never  has  gone  on  in  any  coun- 
try in  the  world.     The  hogs  are  the  great  stay  of  the 
whole  concern.     They  are  much  in  small  space; 
they  make  no  show,  as  flocks  and  herds  do ;  but  with 
out  them,  the  cultivation  of  the  land  would  be  a  poor, 
a  miserably  barren  concern. 

SALTING   MUTTON   AND   BEEF. 

157.  VERY  FAT  Mutton  may  be  salted  to  great 
advantage,  and  also  smoked,  and  may  be  kept  thus  a 
long  while.     Not  the  shoulders  and  legs,  but  the  back 
of  the  sheep.     I  have  never  made  any  flitch  of  sheep- 
bacon  ;  but  I  will ;  for  there  is  nothing  like  having 
a  store  of  meat  in  a  house.     The  running  to  the  butch- 
ers daily  is  a  ridiculous  thing.     The  very  idea  of  being 
fed,  of  a.  family  being  fed,  by  daily  supplies,  has  some- 
thing in  it  perfectly  tormenting.     One  half  of  the 

9 


98  BEES,    FOWLS,    &C.    &C.  [No. 

time  of  a  mistress  of  a  house,  the  affairs  of  which  are 
carried  on  in  this  way,  is  taken  up  in  talking  about 
what  is  to  be  got  for  dinner,  and  in  negotiations  with 
the  butcher.  One  single  moment  spent  at  table  be- 
yond what  is  absolutely  necessary,  is  a  moment  very 
shamefully  spent ;  but.  to  suffer  a  system  of  domestic 
economy,  which  unnecessarily  wastes  daily  an  hour 
or  two  of  the  mistress's  time  in  hunting  for  the  pro- 
vision for  the  repast,  is  a  shame  indeed ;  and  when 
we  consider  how  much  time  is  generally  spent  in  this 
and  in  equally  absurd  ways,  it  is  no  wonder  that  we 
see  so  little  performed  by  numerous  individuals  as 
they  do  perform  during  the  course  of  their  lives. 

158.  Very  fat  parts  ofBeefn\&y  be  salted  and  smo- 
ked in  a  like  manner.  Not  the  lean  ;  for  that  is  a  great 
waste,  and  is,  in  short,  good  for  nothing.  Poor  fel- 
lows on  board  of  ships  are  compelled  to  eat  it,  but  it 
is  a  very  bad  thing. 


No.  VII. 

BEES,    FOWLS,    &C.  &C. 

159.  I  NOW  proceed  to  treat  of  objects  of  less  impor- 
tance than  the  foregoing,  but  still  such  as  may  be 
worthy  of  great  attention.  If  all  of  them  cannot  be 
expected  to  come  within  the  scope  of  a  labourer's  fami- 
ly, some  of  them  must,  and  others  may :  and  it  is  al- 
ways of  great  consequence,  that  children  be  brought 
up  to  set  a  just  value  upon  all  useful  things,  and  es- 
pecially upon  all  living"  things;  to  know  the  utility 
of  them :  for,  without  this,  they  never,  when  grown 
up,  are  worthy  of  being  entrusted  with  the  care  of 
them.  One  of  the  greatest,  and,  perhaps,  the  very 
commonest,  fault  of  servants,  is  their  inadequate  care 
of  animals  committed  to  their  charge.  It  is  a  well- 
known  saying  that  "  the  masters  eye  makes  the  horse 
fat,"  and  the  remissness  to  which  this  alludes,  is  gene- 
rally owing  to  the  servant  not  having  been  brought  up 
to  feel  an  interest  in  the  well-being  of  animals. 


VII.]  EEE3.  99 

BEES. 

160.  IT  is  not  my  intention  to  enter  into  a  history 
of  this  insect  about  which  so  much  has  been  written, 
especially  by  the  French  naturalists.     It  is  the  useful 
that  I  shall  treat  of,  and  that  is  done  in  not  many 
words.     The  best  hives  are  those  made  of  clean  un- 
blighted  rye-straw.     Boards  are  too  cold  in  England. 
A  swarm  should  always  be  put  into  a  new  hive,  and 
the  sticks  should  be  new  that  are  put  into  the  hive  for 
the  bees  to  work  on ;  for,  if  the  hive  be  old,  it  is  not 
so  wholesome,  and  a  thousand  to  one  but  it  contain  the 
embryos  of  moths  and  other  insects  injurious  to  bees. 
Over  the  hive  itself  there  should  be  a  cap  of  thatch, 
made  also  of  clean  rye  straw  ;  and  it  should  not  only 
be  new  when  first  put  on  the  hive  ;  but  a  new  one 
should  be  made  to  supply  the  place  of  the  former  one 
every  three  or  four  months  ;  for  when  the  straw  be- 
gins to  get  rotten,  as  it  soon  does,  insects  breed  in  it, 
its  smell  is  bad,  and  its  effect  on  the  bees  is  dangerous. 

161.  The  hive  should  be  placed  on  a  bench,  the 
legs  of  which  mice  and  rats  cannot  creep  up.     Tin 
round  the  legs  is  best.     But  even  this  will  not  keep 
down  ants,  which  are  mortal  enemies  of  bees.     To 
keep  these  away,  if  you  find  them  infest  the  hive, 
take  a  green  stick  and  twist  it  round  in  the  shape  of  a 
ring  to  lay  on  the  ground  round  the  leg  of  the  bench, 
and  at  a  few  inches  from  it ;  and  cover  this  stick  with 
tar.    This  will  keep  away  the  ants.     If  the  ants  come 
from  one  home,  you  may  easily  trace  them  to  it ;  and 
when  you  have  found  it,  pour  boiling'  water  on  it  in 
the  night,  when  all  the  family  are  at  home. 

This  is  the  only  effectual  way  of  destroying  ants, 
which  are  frequently  so  troublesome.  It  would  be 
cruel  to  cause  this  destruction,  if  it  were  not  neces- 
sary to  do  it,  in  order  to  preserve  the  honey,  and  in- 
deed the  bees  too. 

162.  Besides  the  hive  and  its  cap,  there  should  be 
a  sort  of  shed,  with  top,  back,  and  ends,  to  give  addi- 
tional protection  in  winter ;  though  in  summer  hives 
may  be  kept  too  hot,  and  in  that  case  the  bees  become 


100  BEES.  [NO. 

sickly  and  the  produce  becomes  light.  The  situation 
of  the  hive  is  to  face  the  South-east ;  or,  at  any  rate, 
to  be  sheltered  from  the  North  and  the  West.  From 
the  North  always,  and  from  the  West  in  winter.  If 
it  be  a  very  dry  season  in  summer,  it  contributes 
greatly  to  the  success  of  the  bees,  to  place  clear  water 
near  their  home,  in  a  thing  that  they  can  conveniently 
drink  out  of;  for  if  they  have  to  go  a  great  way  for 
drink,  they  have  not  much  time  for  work. 

163.  It  is  supposed  that  bees  live  only  a  year;  at 
any  rate  it  is  best  never  to  keep  the  same  stall,  or 
family,  over  two  years,  except  you  want  to  increase 
your  number  of  hives.     The  swarm  of  this  summer 
should  always  be  taken  in  the  autumn  of  next  year. 
It  is  whimsical  to  save  the  bees  when  you  take  the 
honey.     You  must  feed  them ;  and,  if  saved,  they 
will  die  of  old  age  before  the  next  fall ;  and  though 
young  ones  will  supply  the  place  of  the  dead,  this  is 
nothing  like  a  good  swarm  put  up  during  the  summer. 

164.  As  to  the  things  that  bees  make  their  collec- 
tions from,  we  do  not,  perhaps,  know  a  thousandth 
part  of  them ;  but  of  all  the  blossoms  that  they  seek 
eagerly  that  of  the  Buck-wheat  stands  foremost.    Go 
round  a  piece  of  this  grain  just  towards  sunset,  when 
the  buck-wheat  is  in  bloom,  and  you  will  see  the  air 
filled  with  bees  going  home  from  it  in  all  directions. 
The  buck-wheat,  too,  continues  in  bloom  a  long  while ; 
for  the  grain  is  dead  ripe  on  one  part  of  the  plant, 
while  there  are  fresh  blossoms  coming  out  on  the 
other  part. 

165.  A  good  stall  of  bees,  that  is  to  say,  the  pro- 
duce of  one,  is  always  worth  about  two  bushels  of 
good  wheat.     The  cost  is  nothing  to  the  labourer. 
He  must  be  a  stupid  countryman  indeed  who  cannot 
make  a  bee-hive ;  and  a  lazy  one  indeed  if  he  will 
not,  if  he  can.     In  short,  there  is  nothing  but  care 
demanded  ;  and  there  are  very  few  situations  in  the 
country,  especially  in  the  south  of  England,  where  a 
labouring  man  may  not  have  half  a  dozen  stalls  of 
bees  to  take  every  year.    The  main  things  are  to  keep 
away  insects,  mice,  and  birds,  and  especially  a  little 


VII.]  GEESE.  101 

bird  called  the  bee-bird ;  and  to  keep  all  clean  and 
fresh  as  to  the  hives  and  coverings.  Never  put  a 
swarm  into  an  old  hive.  If  wasps,  or  hornets,  annoy 
you,  watch  them  home  in  the  day  time ;  and  in  the 
night  kill  them  by  fire,  or  by  boiling  water.  Fowls 
should  not  go  where  bees  are,  for  they  eat  them. 

166.  Suppose  a  man  get  three  stalls  of  bees  in  a 
year.     Six  bushels  of  wheat  give  him  bread  for  an 
eighth  part  of  the  year.    -Scarcely  any  thing  is  a 
greater  misfortune  than  shiftlessness.     It  is  an  evil 
little  short  of  the  loss  of  eyes  or  of  limbs. 

GEESE. 

167.  THEY  can  be  kept  to  advantage  only  where 
there  are  green  commons,  and  there  they  are  easily 
kept ;  live  to  a  very  great  a^e ;  and  are  amongst  the 
hardiest  animals  in  the  world.     If  well  kept,  a  goose 
will  lay  a  hundred  eggs  in  a  year.     The  French  put 
their  eggs  under  large  hens  of  common  fowls,  to 
each  of  which  they  give  four  or  five  eggs ;  or  under 
turkies,  to  which  they  give  nine  or  ten  goose-eggs. 
If  the  goose  herself  sit,  she  must  be  well  and  regu- 
larly fed,  at,  or  near  to,  her  nest.     When  the  young 
ones  are  hatched,  they  should  be  kept  in  a  warm 
place  for  about  four  days,  and  fed  on  barley-meal, 
mixed,  if  possible,  with  milk ;  and  then  they  will  be- 
gin to  graze.     Water  for  them,  or  for  the  old  ones 
to  swim  in,  is  by  no  means  necessary,  nor,  perhaps, 
ever  even  useful.   Or,  how  is  it,  that  you  see  such  fine 
flocks  of  fine  geese  all  over  Long  Island  (in  America) 
where  there  is  scarcely  such  a  thing  as  a  pond  or  a 
run  of  water? 

168.  Geese  are  raised  by  grazing  ;  but  to  fat  them 
something  more  is  required.     Corn  of  some  sort,  or 
boiled  Swedish  turnips.     Some  corn  and  some  raw 
Swedish  turnips,  or  carrots,  or  white  cabbages,  or 
lettuces,  make  the  best  fatting.     The  modes  that  are 
resorted  to  by  the  French  for  fatting  geese,  nailing" 
them  down  by  their  webs,  and  other  acts  of  cruelty, 
are,  I  hope,  such  as  Englishmen  will  never  think  of, 

9* 


102  GEESE.  [No. 

They  will  get  fat  enough  without  the  use  of  any  of 
these  unfeeling  means  being  employed.  He  who  can 
deliberately  inflict  torture  upon  an  animal,  in  order 
to  heighten  the  pleasure  his  palate  is  to  receive  in 
eating  it,  is  an  abuser  of  the  authority  which  God 
has  given  him,  and  is,  indeed,  a  tyrant  in  his  heart. 
Who  would  think  himself  safe,  if  at  the  mercy  of 
such  a  man  ?  Since  the  first  edition  of  this  work 
was  published,  I  have  had  a  good  deal  of  experience 
with  regard  to  geese.  It  is  a  very  great  error  to  sup- 
pose that  what  is  called  a  Michaelmas  goose  is  the 
thing.  Geese  are,  in  general,  eaten  at  the  age  when 
they  are  called  green  geese ;  or  after  they  have  got 
their  full  and  entire  growth,  which  is  not  until  the 
latter  part  of  October.  Green  geese  are  tasteless 
squabs  ;  loose  flabby  things  ;  no  rich  taste  in  them ; 
and,  in  short,  a  very  indifferent  sort  of  dish.  The 
full-grown  goose  has  solidity  in  it ;  but  it  is  hard^  as 
well  as  solid  ;  and  in  place  of  being  rich,  it  is  strong. 
Now,  there  is  a  middle  course  to  take ;  and  if  you 
take  this  course,  you  produce  the  finest  birds  of  which 
we  can  know  any  thing  in  England.  For  three  years, 
including  the  present  year,  I  have  had  the  finest  geese 
that  I  ever  saw,  or  ever  heard  of.  I  have  bought 
from  twenty  to  thirty  every  one  of  these  years.  I 
buy  them  off  the  common  late  in  June,  or  very  early 
in  July.  They  have  cost  me  from  two  shillings  to 
three  shillings  each,  first  purchase.  I  bring  the  flock 
home,  and  put  them  in  a  pen,  about  twenty  feet 
square,  where  I  keep  them  well  littered  with  straw, 
so  as  for  them  not  to  get  filthy.  They  have  one 
trough  in  which  I  give  them  dry  oats,  and  they  have 
another  trough  where  they  have  constantly  plenty  of 
clean  water.  Besides  these,  we  give  them,  two  or 
three  times  a  day,  a  parcel  01  lettuces  out  of  the  gar- 
den. We  give  them  such  as  are  going  to  seed  gene- 
rally ;  but  the  better  the  lettuces  are,  the  better  the 
geese.  If  we  have  no  lettuces  to  spare,  we  give  them 
cabbages,  either  loaved  or  not  loaved ;  though,  ob- 
serve, the  white  cabbage  as  well  as  the  white  lettuce, 
that  is  to  say,  the  loaved  cabbage  and  lettuce,  are  a 


VII.]  GEESI.  103 

great  deal  better  than  those  that  are  not  loaved.  This 
is  the  food  of  my  geese.  They  thrive  exceedingly 
upon  this  food.  After  we  have  had  the  flock  about 
ten  days,  we  begin  to  kill,  and  we  proceed  once  or 
twice  a  week  till  about  the  middle  of  October,  some- 
times later.  A  great  number  of  persons  who  have 
eaten  of  these  geese  have  all  declared  that  they  did 
not  imagine  that  a  goose  could  be  brought  to  be  so 
good  a  bird.  These  geese  are  altogether  different 
from  the  hard,  strong  things  that  come  out  of  the 
stubble  fields,  and  equally  different  from  the  flabby 
things  called  a  green  goose.  I  should  think  that  the 
cabbages  or  lettuces  perform  half  the  work  of  keep- 
ing and  fatting  my  geese ;  and  these  are  things  that 
really  cost  nothing.  I  should  think  that  the  geese, 
upon  an  average,  do  not  consume  more  than  a  shil- 
ling's worth  of  oats  each.  So  that  we  have  these 
beautiful  geese  for  about  four  shillings  each.  No 
money  will  buy  me  such  a  goose  in  London ;  but  the 
thin^  that  I  can  get  nearest  to  it,  will  cost  me  seven 
shillings.  Every  gentleman  has  a  garden.  That 
garden  has,  in  the  month  of  July,  a  wagon-load,  at 
least,  of  lettuces  and  cabbages  to  throw  away.  No- 
thing is  attended  with  so  little  trouble  as  these  geese. 
There  is  hardly  any  body  near  London  that  has  not 
room  for  the  purposes  here  mentioned.  The  reader 
will  be  apt  to  exclaim,  as  my  friends  very  often  do, 
"  Cobbett's  Geese  are  all  Swans."  Well,  better  that 
way  than  not  to  be  pleased  with  what  one  has.  How- 
ever, let  gentlemen  try  this  method  of  fatting  geese. 
It  saves  money,  mind,  at  the  same  time.  Let  them 
try  it ;  and  if  any  one,  who  shall  try  it,  shall  find  the 
effect  not  to  be  that  which  I  say  it  is,  let  him  reproach 
me  publicly  with  being  a  deceiver.  The  thing  is  no 
invention  of  mine.  While  I  could  buy  a  goose  off 
the  common  for  half-a-crown,  I  did  not  like  to  give 
seven  shillings  for  one  in  London,  and  yet  I  wished 
that  geese  should  not  be  excluded  from  my  house. 
Therefore  I  bought  a  flock  of  geese,  and  brought  them 
home  to  Kensington.  They  could  not  be  eaten  all 
at  once.  It  was  necessary,  therefore,  to  fix  upon  a 


104  DUQ£S.  [NO, 

mode  of  feeding  them.  The  above  mode  was  adopt- 
ed by  my  servant,  as  far  as  I  know,  without  any 
knowledge  of  mine ;  but  the  very  agreeable  result 
made  me  look  into  the  matter ;  and  my  opinion,  that 
the  information  will  be  useful  to  many  persons,  at 
any  rate,  is  sufficient  to  induce  me  to  communicate 
it  to  my  readers. 

DUCKS. 

169.  No  water,  to  swim  in,  is  necessary  to  the  old, 
and  is  injurious  to  the  very  young.   They  never  should 
be  suffered  to  swim  (if  water  be  near)  till  more  than 
a  month  old.     The  old  duck  will  lay,  in  the  year,  if 
well  kept,  ten  dozen  of  eggs  ;  and  that  is  her  best  em- 
ployment ;  for  common  hens  are  the  best  mothers. 
It  is  not  good  to  let  young  ducks  out  in  the  morning 
to  eat  slugs  and  worms;  for,  though  they  like  them, 
these  things  kill  them  if  they  eat  a  great  quantity. 
Grass,  corn,  white  cabbages,  and  lettuces,  and  espe- 
cially buck- wheat,  cut,  when  half  ripe,  and  flung  down 
in  the  haulm.     This  makes  fine  ducks.     Ducks  will 
feed  on  garbage  and  all  sorts  of  filthy  things ;  but 
their  flesh  is  strong,  and  bad  in  proportion.     They 
are,  in  Long  Island,  fatted  upon  a  coarse  sort  of  crab, 
called  a  horse-foot  fish,  prodigious  quantities  of  which 
are  cast   on   the   shores.      The   young  ducks  grow 
very  fast  upon  this,  and  very  fat ;  but  wo  unto  him 
that  has  to  smell  them  when  they  come  from  the  spit ; 
and,  as  for  eating  them,  a  man  must  have  a  stomach 
indeed  to  do  that ! 

170.  When  young,  they  should  be  fed  upon  barley- 
meal,  or  curds,  and  kept  in  a  warm  place  in  the  night- 
time, and  not  let  out  early  in  the  morning.     They 
should,  if  possible,  be  kept  from  water  to  swim  in.    It 
always  does  them  harm ;  and,  if  intended  to  be  sold 
to  be  killed  young,  they  should  never  go  near  ponds, 
ditches,  or  streams.     When  you  come  to  fat  ducks, 
you  must  take  care  that  they  get  at  no  filth  whatever. 
They  will  eat  garbage  of  all  sorts ;  they  will  suck 
down  the  most  nauseous  particles  of  all  those  sub- 


VII.]  TURKEYS.  105 

stances  which  go  for  manure.  A  dead  rat  three  parts 
rotten  is  a  feast  to  them.  For  these  reasons  I  should 
never  eat  any  ducks,  unless  there  were  some  mode  of 
keeping  them  from  this  horrible  food.  I  treat  them 
precisely  as  I  do  my  geese.  I  buy  a  troop  when  they 
are  young,  and  put  them  in  a  pen,  and  feed  them  upon 
oats,  cabbages,  lettuces,  and  water,  and  have  the  place 
kept  very  clean.  My  ducks  are,  in  consequence  of 
this,  a  great  deal  more  fine  ana  delicate  than  any 
others  that  I  know  any-thing  of. 


171.  THESE  bn  flying  things,  and  so  are  common 
fowls.     But  it  may  happen  that  a  few  hints  respecting 
them  may  be  of  use.     To  raise  turkeys  in  this  chilly 
climate,  is  a  matter  of  much  greater  difficulty  than  in 
the  climates  that  give  great  warmth.     But  the  great 
enemy  to  young  turkeys   (for  old  ones  are   hardy 
enough)  is  the  wet.     This  they  will  endure  in  no 
climate  ;  and  so  true  is  this,  that,  in  America,  where 
there  is  always  "  a  wet  spell"  in  April,  the  farmers' 
wives  take  care  never  to  have  a  brood  come  out  until 
that  spell  is  passed.     In   England,  where  the  wet 
spells  come  at  haphazard,  the  first  thing  is  to  take  care 
that  young  turkeys  never  go  out,  on  any  account,  ex- 
cept  in  dry  weather,  till  the  dew  be  quite  off  the 
ground  ;  and  this  should  be  adhered  to  till  they  get  to 
be  of  the  size  of  an  old  partridge,  and  have  their  backs 
well  covered  with  feathers.     And,  in  wet  weather, 
they  should  be  kept  under  cover  all  day  long. 

172.  As  to  the  feeding  of  them,  when  young,  va- 
rious nice  things  are  recommended.     Hard  eggs  chop- 
ped fine,  with  crumbs  of  bread,  and  a  great  many 
other  things ;  but  that  which  I  have  seen  used,  and 
always  with  success,  and  for  all  sorts  of  young  poul- 
try, is  milk  turned  into  curds.     This  is  the  food  for 
young  poultry  of  all  sorts.    Some  should  be  madeyVesft 
every  day ;  and  if  this  be  done,  and  the  young  turkeys 
kept  warm,  and  especially  from  wet,  not  one  out  of 
a  score  will  die.     When,  they  get  to  be  strong,  they 


106  TURKEYS.  [No. 

may  have  meal  and  grain,  but  still  they  always  love 
the  curds. 

173.  When  they  get  their  head  feathers  they  are 
hardy  enough;  and  what  they  then  want  is  room  to 
prowl  about.     It  is  best  to  breed  them  under  a  com- 
mon hen  ;  because  she  does  not  ramble  like  a  hen- 
turkey  ;  and  it  is  a  very  curious  thing  that  the  turkeys 
bred  up  by  a  hen  of  the  common  fowl,  do  not  them- 
selves ramble  much  when  they  get  old  ;  and  for  this 
reason,  when  they  buy  turkeys  for  stock,  in  America, 
(where  there  are  such  large  woods,  and  where  the 
distant  rambling  of  turkeys  is  inconvenient.)  they 
always  buy  such  as  have  been  bred  under  the  hens  of 
the  common  fowl ;  than  which  a  more  complete  proof 
of  the  great  powers  of  habit  is,  perhaps,  not  to  be 
found.     And  ought  not  this  to  be  a  lesson  to  fathers 
and  mothers  of  families  ?  Ought  not  they  to  consider 
that  the  habits  which  they  give  their  children  are  to 
stick  by  those  children  during  their  whole  lives  ? 

174.  The  hen  should  be  fed  exceedingly  well,  too, 
while  she  is  sitting"  and  offer  she  has  hatched ;  for 
though  she  does  not  give  milk,  she  gives  heat ;  and, 
let  it  be  observed,  that  as  no  man  ever  yet  saw  healthy 
pigs  with  a  poor  sow,  so  no  man  ever  saw-  healthy 
chickens  with  a  poor  hen.     This  is  a  matter  much 
too  little  thought  of  in  the  rearing  of  poultry  ;  but  it 
is  a  matter  of  the  greatest  consequence.     Never  let  a 
poor  hen  sit;  feed  the  hen  well  while  she  is  sitting, 
and  feed  her  most  abundantly  when  she  has  young 
ones  ;  for  then  her  labour  is  very  great ;  she  is  ma- 
king exertions  of  some  sort  or  other  during  the  whole 
twenty-four  hours ;  she  has  no  rest ;  is  constantly 
doing  something  or  other  to  provide  food  or  safety 
for  her  young  ones.  * 

175.  As  to  fatting  turkeys,  the  best  way  is,  never 
to  let  them  be  poor.     Cramming  is  a  nasty  thing, 
and   quite  unnecessary.     Barley-meal,  mixed  with 
skim-milk,  given  to  them,  fresh  and  fresh,  will  make 
them  fat  in  a  short  time,  either  in  a  coop,  in  a  house, 
or  running  about.     Boiled  carrots  and  Swedish  tur- 
nips will  help,  and  it  is  a  change  of  sweet  food.     La 


VII.]  FOWLS.  107 

France  they  sometimes  pick  turkeys  alive,  to  make 
them  tender  ;  of  which  I  shall  only  say,  that  the  man 
that  can  do  this,  or  order  it  to  be  done,  ought  to  be 
skinned  alive  himself. 


176.  THESE  are  kept  for  two  objects ;  their  flesh 
and  their  eggs.   As  to  rearing  them,  every  thing  said 
about  rearing  turkeys  is  applicable  here.     They  are 
best  fatted,  too,  in  the  same  manner.    But,  as  to  lay- 
ing-hens, there  are  some  means  to  be  used  to  secure 
the  use  of  them  in  winter.    They  ought  not  to  be  old 
hens.     Pullets,  that  is,  birds  hatched  in  the  foregoing 
spring,  are,  perhaps,  the  best.     At  any  rate,  let  them 
not  be  more  than  two  years  old.    They  should  be  kept 
in  a  warm  place,  and  not  let  out,  even  in  the  day-time, 
in  wet  weather ;  for  one  good  sound  wetting  will  keep 
them  back  for  a  fortnight.    The  dry  cold,  even  in  the 
severest  cold,  if  dry,  is  less  injurious  than  even  a  little 
wet  in  winter-time.     If  the  feathers  get  wet,  in  our 
climate,  in  winter,  or  in  short  days,  they  do  not  get 
dry  for  a  long  time ;  and  this  it  is  that  spoils  and  kills 
many  of  our  fowls. 

177.  The  French,  who  are  great  egg-eaters,  take 
singular  pains  as  to  the  food  of  laying-hens  in  winter. 
They  let  them  out  very  little,  even  in  their  fine 
climate,  and  give  them  very  stimulating  food ;  barley 
boiled,  and  given  them  warm;   curds,  buck-wheat, 
(which,  I  believe,  is  the  best  thing  of  all  except  curds;) 
parsley  and  other  herbs  chopped  fine ;  leeks  chopped  in 
the  same  way;  also  apples  and  pears  chopped  very 
fine ;  oats  and  wheat  cribbled ;  and  sometimes  they 
give  them  hemp-seed,  and  the  seed  of  nettles ;  or  dried 
nettles,   harvested    in  'summer,    and    boiled   in   the 
winter.     Some  give  them  ordinary  food,  and,  once  a 
day,  toasted  bread  sopped  in  wine.     White  cabbages 
chopped  up  are  very  good  in  winter  for  all  sorts  of 
poultry. 

178.  This  is  taking  a  great  deal  of  pains  ;  but  the 
produce  is  also  great  and  very  valuable  in  winter ;  for, 


108  FOWLS.  [No. 

as  to  preserved  eggs,  they  are  things  to  ruufrom  and 
not  after.  All  this  supposes,  however,  a  proper  hen- 
house, about  which  we,  in  England,  take  very  little 
pains.  The  vermin,  that  is  to  say,  the  lice,  that 
poultry  breed,  are  the  greatest  annoyance.  And  as 
our  wet  climate  furnishes  them,  for  a  great  part  of  the 
year,  with  no  dust  by  which  to  get  rid  of  these  vermin, 
we  should  be  very  careful  about  cleanliness  in  the  hen- 
houses. Many  a  hen,  when  sitting,  is  compelled  to 
quit  her  nest  to  get  rid  of  the  lice.  They  torment  the 
young  chickens.  And,  in  short,  are  a  great  injury. 
The  fowl-house  should,  therefore,  be  very  often  clean- 
ed out ;  and  sand,  or  fresh  earth,  should  be  thrown  on 
the  floor.  The  nest  should  not  be  on  shelves,  or  on 
any-thing  fixed ;  but  little  flat  baskets,  something  like 
those  that  the  gardeners  have  in  the  markets  in  Lon- 
don, and  which  they  call  sieves,  should  be  placed 
against  the  sides  of  the  house  upon  pieces  of  wood  . 
nailed  up  for  the  purpose.  By  this  means  the  nests 
are  kept  perfectly  clean,  because  the  baskets  are,  when 
necessary,  taken  down,  the  hay  thrown  out,  and  the 
baskets  washed;  which  cannot  be  done,  if  the  nest  be 
made  in  any-thing  forming  a  part  of  the  building.  Be- 
sides this,  the  roosts  ought  to  be  cleaned  every  week, 
and  the  hay  changed  in  the  nests  of  laying-hens.  It  is 
good  to  fumigate  the  house  frequently  by  burning  dry 
herbs,  juniper  wood,  cedar  wood,  or  with  brimstone ; 
for  nothing  stands  so  much  in  need  of  cleanliness  as 
a  fowl-house,  in  order  to  have  fine  fowls  and  plenty 
of  eggs. 

179.  The  ailments  of  fowls  are  numerous,  but  they 
would  seldom  be  seen,  if  the  proper  care  were  taken. 
It  is  useless  to  talk  of  remedies  in  a  case  where  you 
have  complete  power  to  prevent  the  evil.   If  well  fed, 
and  kept  perfectly  clean,  fowls  will  seldom  be  sick ; 
and,  as  to  old  age,  they  never  ought  to  be  kept  more 
than  a  couple  or  three  years ;  for  they  get  to  be  good 
for  little  as  layers,  and  no  teeth  can  face  them  as  food. 

180.  It  is,  perhaps,  seldom  that  fowls  can  be  kept  con- 
veniently about  a  cottage ;  but  when  they  can,  three, 
four,  or  half  a  dozen  hens  to  lay  in  winter,  when  the 


VIL]  FOWLS.  109 

wife  is  at  home  the  greater  part  of  the  time,  are  worth 
attention.  They  would  require  but  little  room,  might 
be  bought  in  November  and  sold  in  April,  and  six  of 
them,  with  proper  care,  might  be  made  to  clear  every 
week  the  price  of  a  gallon  of  flour.  If  the  labour 
were  great,  I  should  not  think  of  it;  but  it  is  none; 
and  I  am  for  neglecting  nothing  in  the  way  of  pains 
in  order  to  ensure  a  hot  dinner  every  day  in  winter, 
when  the  man  comes  home  from  work.  As  to  the 
fatting"  of  fowls,  information  can  be  of  no  use  to  those 
who  live  in  a  cottage  all  their  lives ;  but  it  may  be  of 
some  use  to  those  who  are  born  in  cottages,  and  go  to 
have  the  care  of  poultry  at  richer  persons'  houses. 
Fowls  should  be  put  to  fat  about  a  fortnight  before 
they  are  wanted  to  be  killed.  The  best  food  is  bar- 
ley-meal wetted  with  milk,  but  not  wetted  too  much. 
They  should  have  clear  water  to  drink,  and  it  should 
be  frequently  changed.  Crammed  fowls  are  very  nasty 
things :  but  "  barn-door "  fowls,  as  they  are  called, 
are  sometimes  a  great  deal  more  nasty.  Barn-door 
would,  indeed,  do  exceedingly  well ;  but  it  unfortu- 
nately happens  that  the  stable  is  generally  pretty  near 
to  the  barn.  And  now  let  any  gentleman  who  talks 
about  sweet  barn-door  fowls,  have  one  caught  in 
the  yard,  where  the  stable  is  also.  Let  him  have  it 
brought  in,  killed,  and  the  craw  taken  out  and  cut  open. 
Then  let  him  take  a  ball  of  horse-dung  from  the  stable- 
door;  and  let  his  nose  tell  him  how  very  small  is 
the  difference  between  the  smell  of  the  horse-dung, 
and  the  smell  of  the  craw  of  his  fowl.  In  short,  roast 
the  fowl,  and  then  pull  aside  the  skin  at  the  neck,  put 
your  nose  to  the  place,  and  you  will  almost  think  that 
you  are  at  the  stable  door.  Hence  the  necessity  of 
taking  them  away  from  the  barn-door  a  fortnight,  at 
least,  before  they  are  killed.  We  know  very  well  that 
ducks  that  have  been  fed  upon  fish,  either  wild  ducks,  or 
tame  ducks,  will  scent  a  whole  room,  and  drive  out  of  it 
all  those  who  have  not  pretty  good  constitutions.  It 
must  be  so.  Solomon  says  that  all  flesh  is  grass ;  and 
those  who  know  any-thing  about  beef?  know  the  differ- 
ence between  the  effect  of  the  grass  in  Herefordshire 
10 


110  PIGEONS.  [No. 

and  Lincolnshire,  and  the  effect  of  turnips  and  oil  cake. 
In  America  they  always  take  the  fowls  from  the  farm- 
yard, and  shut  them  up  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks 
before  they  be  killed.  One  thing,  however,  about 
fowls  ought  always  to  be  borne  in  mind.  They  are 
never  good  for  any-thing  when  they  have  attained 
their  full  growth,  unless  they  be  capons  or  poullards. 
If  the  poulets  be  old  enough  to  have  little  eggs  in  them, 
they  are  not  worth  one  farthing;  and  as  to  the  cocks 
of  the  same  age,  they  are  fit  for  nothing  but  to  make 
soup  for  soldiers  on  their  march,  and  they  ought  to  be 
taken  for  that  purpose. 

PIGEONS. 

181.  A  FEW  of  these  may  be  kept  about  any  cottage, 
for  they  are  kept  even  in  towns  by  labourers  and  arti- 
zans.   They  cause  but  little  trouble.    They  take  care 
of  their  own  young  ones ;  and  they  do  not  scratch, 
or  do  any  other  mischief  in  gardens.     They  want 
feeding  with  tares,  peas,  or  small  beans ;  and  buck- 
wheat is  very  good  for  them.    To  begin  keeping  them, 
they  must  not  have  flown  at  large  before  you  get 
them.  You  must  keep  them  for  two  or  three  days,  shut 
into  the  place  which  is  to  be  their  home ;  and  then 
they  may  be  let  out,  and  will  never  leave  you,  as  long 
as  they  can  get  proper  food,  and  are  undisturbed  by 
vermin,  or  unannoyed  exceedingly  by  lice. 

182.  The  common  dove-house  pigeons  are  the  best 
to  keep.     They  breed  oftenest,  and  feed  their  young 
ones  best.  They  begin  to  breed  at  about  nine  months 
old,  and  if  well  kept,  they  will  give  you  eight  or  nine 
pair  in  the  year.     Any  little  place,  a  shelf  in  the  cow 
shed ;  a  board  or  two  under  the  eaves  of  the  house  ; 
or,  in  short,  any  place  under  cover,  even  on  the  ground 
floor,  they  will  sit  and  hatch  and  breed  up  their  young 
ones  in. 

183.  It  is  not  supposed  that  there  could  be  much 
profit  attached  to  them ;  but  they  are  of  this  use ;  they 
are  very  pretty  creatures ;  very  interesting  in  their 
manners;  they  are  an  object  to  delight  children,  and 


VII.]  RABBITS.  Ill 

to  give  them  the  early  habit  of  fondness  for  animals 
and  of  setting'  a  value  on  them,  which,  as  I  have 
often  had  to  observe  before,  is  a  very  great  thing.  A 
considerable  part  of  all  the  property  of  a  nation  con- 
sists of  animals.  Of  course  a  proportionate  part  of 
the  cares  and  labours  of  a  people  appertain  to  the 
breeding  and  bringing  to  perfection  those  animals; 
and,  if  you  consult  your  experience,  you  will  find  that 
a  labourer  is,  generally  speaking,  of  value  in  propor- 
tion as  he  is  worthy  of  being  intrusted  with  the  care 
of  animals.  The  most  careless  fellow  cannot  hurt 
a  hedge  or  ditch ;  but  to  trust  him  with  the  team,  or 
thejlock,  is  another  matter.  And,  mind,  for  the  man  to 
be  trust- worthy  in  this  respect,  the  boy  must  have  been 
in  the  habit  of  being  kind  and  considerate  towards 
animals;  and  nothing  is  so  likely  to  give  him  that  ex- 
cellent habit  as  his  seeing,  from  his  very  birth,  animals 
taken  great  care  of,  and  treated  with  great  kindness 
by  his  parents,  and  now-and-then  having  a  little  thing 
to  call  his  own. 

RABBITS. 

184.  IN  this  case,  too,  the  chief  use,  perhaps,  is  to 
give  children  those  habits  of  which  I  have  been  just 
speaking.     Nevertheless,  rabbits  are  really  profitable. 
Three  does  and  a  buck  will  give  you  a  rabbit  to  eat  for 
every  three  days  in  the  year,  which  is  a  much  larger 
quantity  of  food  than  any  man  will  get  by  spending 
half  his  time  in  the  pursuit  of  wild  animals,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  toil,  the  tearing  of  clothes,  and  the 
danger  of  pursuing  the  latter. 

185.  Every-body  knows  how  to  knock  up  a  rabbit 
hutch.    The  does  should  not  be  allowed  to  have  more 
than  seven  litters  in  a  year.    Six  young  ones  to  a  doe 
is  all  that  ought  to  be  kept ;  and  then  they  will  be 
fine.    Abundant  food  is  the  main  thing ;  and  what  is 
there  that  a  rabbit  will  not  eat  1     I  know  of  nothing 
green  that  they  will  not  eat ;  and  if  hard  pushed,  they 
will  eat  bark,  and  even  wood.    The  best  thing  to  feed 
the  young  ones  on  when  taken  from  the  mother,  is 


112  RABBITS.  [No. 

the  carrot,  wild  or  garden.  Parsnips,  Swedish  turnips, 
roots  of  dandelion ;  for  too  much  green  or  watery  stuff 
is  not  good  for  weaning  rabbits.  They  should  remain 
as  long  as  possible  with  the  mother.  They  should 
have  oats  once  a-day ;  and,  after  a  time,  they  may 
eat  any-thing  with  safety.  But  if  you  give  them  too 
much  green  at  first  when  they  are  weaned,  they  rot 
as  sheep  do.  A  variety  of  food  is  a  great  thing ;  and, 
surely,  the  fields  and  gardens  and  hedges  furnish  this 
variety !  All  sorts  of  grasses,  strawberry-leaves,  ivy, 
dandelions,  the  hog-weed  or  wild  parsnip,  in  root, 
stem,  and  leaves.  I  have  fed  working  horses,  six  or 
eight  in  number,  upon  this  plant  for  weeks  together. 
It  is  a  tall  bold  plant  that  grows  in  prodigious  quan- 
tities in  the  hedges  and  coppices  in  some  parts  of 
England.  It  is  the  perennial  parsnip.  It  has  flower 
and  seed  precisely  like  those  of  the  parsnip;  and 
hogs,  cows,  and  horses,  are  equally  fond  of  it.  Many 
a  half-starved  pig  have  I  seen  within  a  few  yards  of 
cart-loads  of  this  pig-meat !  This  arises  from  want 
of  the  early  habit  of  attention  to  such  matters.  I, 
who  used  to  get  hog-weed  for  pigs  and  for  rabbits 
when  a  little  chap,  have  never  forgotten  that  the  wild 
parsnip  is  good  food  for  pigs  and  rabbits. 

186.  When  the  doe  has  young  ones,  feed  her  most 
abundantly  with  all  sorts  of  greens  and  herbage  and 
with  carrots  and  the  other  things  mentioned  before, 
besides  giving  her  a  few  oats  once  a-day.    That  is  the 
way  to  have  fine  healthy  young  ones,  which,  if  they 
come  from  the  mother  in  good  case,  will  very  seldom 
die.     But  do  not  think,  that  because  she  is  a  small 
animal,  a  little  feeding  is  sufficient !     Rabbits  eat  a 
great  deal  more  than  cows  or  sheep  in  proportion  to 
their  bulk. 

187.  Of  all  animals  rabbits  are  those  that  boys  are 
most  fond  of.     They  are  extremely  pretty,  nimble  in 
their  movements,  engaging  in  their  attitudes,  and  al- 
ways completely  under  immediate  control.    The  pro- 
duce has  not  long  to  be  waited  for.  In  short,  they  keep 
an  interest  constantly  alive  in  a  little  chap's  mind;  and 
they  really  cost  nothing;  for  as  to  the  oats>  where  is 


VII.]  GOATS  AND  EWES.  113 

the  boy  that  cannot,  in  harvest-time,  pick  up  enough 
along  the  lanes  to  serve  his  rabbits  for  a  year?  The 
care  is  all;  and  the  habit  of  taking  care  of  things  is, 
of  itself,  a  most  valuable  possession. 

188.  To  those  gentlemen  who  keep  rabbits  for  the 
use  of  their  family  (and  a  very  useful  and  convenient 
article  they  are,)  I  would  observe,  that  when  they 
find  their  rabbits  die,  they  may  depend  on  it,  that 
ninety-nine  times  out  of  the  hundred  starvation  is 
the  malady.     And  particularly  short  feeding  of  the 
doe,  while,  and  before  she  has  young  ones;  that  is 
to  say,  short  feeding  of  her  at  all  tim.es ;  for,  if  she 
be  poor,  the  young  ones  will  be  good  for  nothing. 
She  will  live  being  poor,  but  she  will  not,  and  cannot 
breed  up  fine  young  ones. 

GOATS  AND  EWES. 

189.  IN  some  places  where  a  cow  cannot  be  kept, 
a  goat  may.     A  correspondent  points  out  to  me,  that 
a  Dorset  ewe  or  two  might  be  kept  on  a  common  near 
a  cottage  to  give  milk;  and  certainly  this  might  be 
done  very  well ;  but  I  should  prefer  a  goat,  which  is 
hardier  and  much  more  domestic.     When  I  was  in 
the  army,  in  New  Brunswick,  where,  be  it  observed, 
the  snow  lies  on  the  ground  seven  months  in  the  year, 
there  were  many  goats  that  belonged  to  the  regiment, 
and  that  went  about  with  it  on  shipboard  and  every- 
where else.     Some  of  them  had  gone  through  nearly 
the  whole  of  the  American  War.   We  never  fed  them. 
In  summer  they  picked  about  wherever  they  could 
find  grass  ;  and  in  winter  they  lived  on  cabbage-leaves, 
turnip-peelings,   potatoe-peelings,   and    other  things 
flung  out  of  the  soldiers'  rooms  and  huts.    One  of  these 
goats  belonged  to  me,  and,  on  an  average  throughout 
the  year,  she  gave  me  more  than  three  half-pints  of 
milk  a  day.    I  used  to  have  the  kid  killed  when  a  few 
days  old ;  and,  for  some  time,  the  goat  would  give 
nearly  or  quite,  two  quarts  of  milk  a  day.     She  was 
seldom  dry  more  than  three  weeks  in  the  year. 

190.  There  is  one  great  inconvenience  belonging 

10* 


114  GOATS  AND  EWES.  [No. 

to  goats  ;  that  is,  they  bark  all  young  trees  that  they 
come  near ;  so  that,  if  they  get  into  a  garden,  they 
destroy  every  thing.  But  there  are  seldom  trees  on 
commons,  except  such  as  are  too  large  to  be  injured 
by  goats ;  and  I  can  see  no  reason  against  keeping  a 
goat  where  a  cow  cannot  be  kept.  Nothing  is  so 
hardy  ;  nothing  is  so  little  nice  as  to  its  food.  Goats 
will  pick  peelings  out  of  the  kennel  and  eat  them. 
They  will  eat  mouldy  bread  or  biscuit ;  fusty  hay, 
and  almost  rotten  straw ;  furze-bushes,  heath-thistles  ; 
and,  indeed,  what  will  they  not  eat,  when  they  will 
make  a  hearty  meal  on  paper,  brown  or  white,  printed 
on  or  not  printed  on,  and  give  milk  all  the  while ! 
They  will  lie  in  any  dog-hole.  They  do  very  well 
clogged,  or  stumped  out.  And,  then,  they  are  very 
healthy  things  into  the  bargain,  however  closely  they 
may  be  confined.  When  sea  voyages  are  so  stormy 
as  to  kill  geese,  ducks,  fowls,  and  almost  pigs,  the 
goats  are  well  and  lively  ;  and  when  a  dog  of  no  kind 
can  keep  the  deck  for  a  minute,  a  goat  will  skip  about 
upon  it  as  bold  as  brass. 

191.  Goats  do  not  ramble  from  home.     They  come 
in  regularly  in  the  evening,  and  if  called,  they  come 
like  dogs.     Now,  though  ewes,  when  taken  great  care 
of,  will  be  very  gentle,  and  though  their  milk  may  be 
rather  more  delicate  than  that  of  the  goat,  the  ewes 
must  be  fed  with  nice  and  clean  food,  and  they  will 
not  do  much  in  the  milk-giving  way  upon  a  common ; 
and,  as  to  feeding  them,  provision  must  be  made  pret- 
ty nearly  as  for  a  cow.     They  will  not  endure  con- 
finement like  goats ;  and  they  are  subject  to  nume- 
rous ailments  that  goats  know  nothing  of.    Then  the 
ewes  are  done  by  the  time  they  are  about  six  years 
old  ;  for  they  then  lose  their  teeth  ;  whereas  a  goat  will 
continue  to  breed  and  to  give  milk  in  abundance  for  a 
great  many  years.     The  sheep  is  frightened  at  every- 
thing, and  especially  at  the  least  sound  of  a  dog.     A 
goat,  on  the  contrary,  will  face  a  dog,  and  if  he  be 
not  a  big  and  courageous  one,  beat  him  off. 

192.  I  have  often  wondered  how  it  happened  that 
none  of  our  labourers  kept  goats  ;  and  I  really  should 


VIL]  CANDLES  AND  RUSHES.  115 

be  glad  to  see  the  thing  tried.  They  are  pretty  crea- 
tures, domestic  as  a  dog,  will  stand  and  watch,  as  a 
dog  does,  for  a  crumb  of  bread,  as  you  are  eating ; 
give  you  no  trouble  in  the  milking  ;  and  I  cannot  help 
being  of  opinion,  that  it  might  be  of  great  use  to  in- 
troduce them  amongst  our  labourers. 

CANDLES  AND  RUSHES. 

193.  WE  are  not  permitted  to  make  candles  our- 
selves, and  if  we  were,  they  ought  seldom  to  be  used 
in  a  labourer's  family.     I  was  bred  and  brought  up 
mostly  by  rush-light,  and  I  do  not  find  that  I  see  less 
clearly  man  other  people.     Candles  certainly  were 
not  much  used  in  English  labourers'  dwellings  in  the 
days  when  they  had  meat  dinners  and  Sunday  coats. 
Potatoes  and  taxed  candles  seem  to  have  grown  into 
fashion  together ;  and,  perhaps,  for  this  reason  :  that 
when  the  pot  ceased  to  afford  grease  for  the  rushes, 
the  potatoe-gorger  was  compelled  to  go  to  the  chand- 
ler's shop  for  light  to  swallow  the  potatoes  by,  else 
he  might  have  devoured  peeling  and  all ! 

194.  My  grandmother,  who  lived  to  be  pretty  nearly 
ninety,  never,  I  believe,  burnt  a  candle  in  her  house 
in  her  life.     I  know  that  I  never  saw  one  there,  and 
she,  in  a  great  measure,  brought  me  up.     She  used 
to  get  the  meadow-rushes,  such  as  they  tie  the  hop- 
shoots  to  the  poles  with.     She  cut  them  when  they 
had  attained  their  full  substance,  but  were  still  green. 
The  rush  at  this  age,  consists  of  a  body  of  pith  with 
a  green  skin  on  it.     You  cut  off  both  ends  of  the 
rush,  and  leave  the  prime  part,  which,  on  an  average, 
may  be  about  a  foot  and  a  half  long.     Then  you  take 
off  all  the  green  skin,  except  for  about  a  fifth  part 
of  the  way  round  the  pith.     Thus  it  is  a  piece  of  pith 
all  but  a  little  strip  of  skin  in  one  part  all  the  way  up, 
which,  observe,  is  necessary  to  hold  the  pith  together 
all  the  way  along. 

195.  The  rushes  being  thus  prepared,  the  grease 
is  melted,  and  put  in  a  melted  state  into  something 
that  is  as  long  as  the  rushes  are.     The  rushes  are 


116  MUSTARD.  [No. 

put  into  the  grease ;  soaked  in  it  sufficiently ;  then 
taken  out  and  laid  in  a  bit  of  bark  taken  from  a  young 
tree,  so  as  not  to  be  too  large.  This  bark  is  fixed  up 
against  the  wall  by  a  couple  of  straps  put  round  it ; 
and  there  it  hangs  for  the  purpose  of  holding  the 
rushes. 

196.  The  rushes  are  carried  about  in  the  hand; 
but  to  sit  by,  to  work  by,  or  to  go  to  bed  by,  they  are 
fixed  in  stands  made  for  the  purpose,  some  of  which 
are  high  to  stand  on  the  ground,  and  some  low,  to 
stand  on  a  table.     These  stands  have  an  iron  port 
something  like  a  pair  of  pliers  to  hold  the  rush  in, 
and  the  rush  is  shifted  forward  from  time  to  time,  as 
it  burns  down  to  the  thing  that  holds  it. 

197.  Now  these  rushes  give  a  better  light  than  a 
common   small   dip-candle ;  and  they  cost   next  to 
nothing,  though  the  labourer  may  with  them  have  as 
much  light  as  he  pleases,  and  though,  without  them 
he  must  sit  the  far  greater  part  of  the  winter  evenings 
in  the  dark,  even  if  he  expend  fifteen  shillings  a  year 
in  candles.     You  may  do  any  sort  of  work  by  this 
light;  and,  if  reading  be  your  taste,  you  may  read  the 
foul  libels,  the  lies  and  abuse,  which  are  circulated 
gratis   about    me  by    the    "  Society   for  promoting 
Christian  Knowledge,"  as  well  by  rush-light,  as  you 
can  by  the  light  of  taxed  candles ;  and,  at  any  rate, 
you  would  have  one  evil  less ;  for  to  be  deceived  and 
to  pay  a  tax  for  the  deception  are  a  little  too  much 
for  even  modern  loyalty  openly  to  demand. 

MUSTARD. 

198.  WHY  buy  this,  when  you  can  grow  it  in  your 
garden  ?     The  stuff  you  buy  is  Ahalf  drugs;  and  is 
injurious  to  health.     A  yard  square  of  ground,  sown 
with  common  Mustard,  the  crop  of  which  you  would 
grind  for  use,  in  a  little  mustard-mill,  as  you  wanted 
it,  would  save  you  some  money,  and  probably  save 
your  life.     Your  mustard  would  look  brown  instead 
of  yellow;  but  the  former  colour  is  as  good  as  the 
latter :  and,  as  to  the  taste,  the  real  mustard  has  cer- 


VII.]         DRESS,  HOUSEHOLD  GOODS,  AND  FUEL.  117 

tainly  a  much  better  than  that  of  the  drugs  and  flour 
which  go  under  the  name  of  mustard.  Let  any  one 
try  it,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  never  use  the  drugs 
again.  The  drugs,  if  you  take  them  freely,  leave  a 
burning  at  the  pit  of  your  stomach,  which  the  real 
mustard  does  not. 

DRESS,  HOUSEHOLD  GOODS,  AND  FUEL. 

199.  IN  Paragraph  152,  I  said,  I  think,  enough  to 
caution  you,  the  English  labourer,  against  the  taste, 
now  too  prevalent,  for  fine  and  flimsy  dress.    It  was, 
for  hundreds  of  years,  amongst  the  characteristics 
of  the  English  people,  that  their  taste  was,  in  all 
matters,  for  things  solid,  sound,  and  good ;  for  the 
useful^  and  decent^  the  cleanly  in  dress,  and  not  for 
the  showy.     Let  us  hope  that  this  may  be  the  taste 
again  ;  and  let  us,  my  friends,  fear  no  troubles,  no 
perils,  that  may  be  necessary  to  produce  a  return  of 
that  taste,  accompanied  with  full  bellies  and  warm 
backs  to  the  labouring  classes. 

200.  In  household  goods,  the  warm,  the  strong,  the 
durable,  ought  always  to  be  kept  in  view.  Oak  tables, 
bedsteads  and  stools,  chairs  of  oak  or  of  yew  tree, 
and  never  a  bit  of  miserable  deal  board.     Things  of 
this  sort  ought  to  last  several  lifetimes.     A  labourer 
ought  to  inherit  from  his  great  grandfather  something 
besides  his  toil.     As  to  bedding,  and  other  things  of 
that  sort,  all  ought  to  be  good  in  their  nature,  of  a 
durable  quality,  and  plain  in  their  colour  and  form. 
The  plates,  dishes,  mugs,  and  things  of  that  kind, 
should  be  of  pewter,  or  even  of  wood.     Any-thing 
is  better  than  crockery-ware.   Bottles  to  carry  a-field 
should  be  of  wood.     Formerly,  nobody  but  the  gyp- 
sies and  mumpers,  that  went  a  hop-picking  in  the 
season,  carried  glass  or  earthen  bottles.    As  to  glass 
of  any  sort,  I  do  not  know  what  business  it  has  in 
any  man's  house,  unless  he  be  rich  enough  to  live 
on  his  means.     It  pays  a  tax,  in  many  cases,  to  the 
amount  of  two-thirds  of  its  cost.     In  short,  when  a 
house  is  once  furnished  with  sufficient  goods,  there 


118  HOPS.  [No. 

ought  to  be  no  renewal  of  hardly  any  part  of  them 
wanted  for  half  an  age,  except  in  case  of  destruction 
by  fire.  Good  management  in  this  way  leaves  the 
man's  wages  to  provide  an  abundance  of  good  food 
and  good  raiment;  and  these  are  the  things  that 
make  happy  families ;  these  are  the  things  that  make 
a  good,  kind,  sincere,  and  brave  people ;  not  little 
pamphlets  about  "  loyalty  "  and  "  content."  A  good 
man  will  be  contented  fast  enough,  if  he  be  fed  and 
clad  sufficiently;  but  if  a  man  be  not  well  fed  and 
clad,  he  is  a  base  wretch  to  be  contented. 

201.  Fuel  should  be,  if  possible,  provided  in  sum- 
mer, or  at  least  some  of  it.     Turf  and  peat  must 
be   got   in   summer,  and   some  wood  may.     In  the 
woodland  countries,  the   next  winter  ought   to  be 
thought  of  in  June,  when  people  hardly  know  what 
to  do  with  the  fuelwood ;  and  something  should,  if 
possible,  be  saved  in  the  bark-harvest  to  get  a  part  of 
the  fuel  for  the  next  winter.     Fire  is  a  capital  article. 
To  have  no  fire,  or  a  bad  fire,  to  sit  by,  is  a  most  dis- 
mal thing.     In  such  a  state  man  and  wife  must  be 
something  out  of  the  common  way  to  be  in  good  hu- 
mour with  each  other,  to  say  nothing  of  colds  and 
other  ailments  which  are  the  natural  consequence  of 
such  misery.     If  we  suppose  the  great  Creator  to 
condescend  to  survey  his  works  in  detail,  what  object 
can  be  so  pleasing  to  him  as  that  of  the  labourer,  after 
his  return  from  the  toils  of  a  cold  winter  day,  sitting 
with  his  wife  and  children  round  a  cheerful  fire,  while 
the  wind  whistles  in  the  chimney  and  the  rain  pelts 
the  roof?  But,  of  all  God's  creation,  what  is  so  miser- 
able to  behold  or  to  think  of  as  a  wretched,  half- 
starved  family  creeping  to  their  nest  of  flocks  or  straw, 
there  to  lie  shivering,  till  sent  forth  by  the  fear  of  ab- 
solutely expiring  from  want  ? 

HOPS. 

202.  I  TREATED  of  them  before ;  but  before  I  con- 
clude this  little  Work,  it  is  necessary  to  speak  of  them 
again.    I  made  a  mistake  as  to  the  tax  on  the  Hops, 


VII.]  YEAST.  119 

The  positive  tax  is  2d.  a  pound,  and  I  (in  former 
editions)  stated  it  at  4d,  However,  in  all  such  cases, 
there  falls  upon  the  consumer  the  expenses  attending 
the  paying  of  the  tax.  That  is  to  say,  the  cost  of 
interest  of  capital  in  the  grower  who  pays  the  tax, 
and  who  must  pay  for  it,  whether  his  hops  be  cheap 
or  dear.  Then  the  trouble  it  gives  him,  and  the 
rules  he  is  compelled  to  obey  in  the  drying  and  bag- 
ging, and  which  cause  him  great  expense.  So  that 
the  tax  on  hops  of  our  own  English  growth,  may 
now  be  reckoned  to  cost  the  consumer  about  3-J-d.  a 
pound. 


203.  YEAST  is  a  great  thing  in  domestic  manage- 
ment.    I  have  once  before  published  a  receipt  for 
making  yeast-cakes,  I  will  do  it  again  here. 

204.  In  Long  Island  they  make  yeast-cakes.     A 
parcel  of  these  cakes  is  made  once  a  year.     That  is 
often  enough.     And,  when  you  bake,  you  take  one 
of  these  cakes  (or  more  according  to  the  buln  of  the 
hatch)  and  with  them  raise  your  bread.     The  very 
best  bread  I  ever  ate  in  my  life  was  lightened  with 
these  cakes. 

205.  The  materials  for  a  good  batch  of  cakes  are 
as  follows  : — 3  ounces  of  good  fresh  Hops;  3^-  pounds 
of  Rye  Flour;  7  pounds  of  Indian  Corn  Meal;  and 
one  Gallon  of  Water. — Rub  the  hops,  so  as  to  sepa- 
rate them.     Put  them  into  the  water,  which  is  to  be 
boiling  at  the  time.     Let  them  boil  half  an  hour. 
Then  strain  the  liquor  through  a  fine  sieve  into  an 
earthen  vessel.     While  the  liquor  is  hot,  put  in  the 
Rye-Flour;  stirring  the  liquor  well,  and  quickly,  as 
the  Rye-Flour  goes  into  it.    The  day  after,  when  it  is 
working,  put  in  the  Indian  Meal,  stirring  it  well  as  it 
goes  in.    Before  the  Indian  Meal  be  all  in,  the  mess 
will  be  very  stiff;  and  it  will,  in  fact,  be  dough,  very 
much  of  the  consistence  of  the  dough  that  bread  is 
made  of. — Take  this  dough ;  knead  it  well,  as  you 
would  for  pie-crust.    Roll  it  out  with  a  rolling-pin, 


120  YEAST.  [NO. 

as  you  roll  out  pie-crust,  to  the  thickness  of  about  a 
third  of  an  inch.  When  you  have  it  (or  a  part  of  it 
at  a  time)  rolled  out,  cut  it  up  into  cakes  with  a  tum- 
bler glass  turned  upside  down,  or  with  something 
else  that  will  answer  the  same  purpose.  Take  a  clean 
board  (a  tin  may  be  better)  and  put  the  cakes  to  dry 
in  the  sun.  Turn  them  every  day  ;  let  them  receive 
no  wet ;  and  they  will  become  as  hard  as  ship  bis- 
cuit. Put  them  into  a  bag,  or  box,  and  keep  them  in 
a  place  perfectly  free  from  damp.  When  you  bake, 
take  two  cakes,  of  the  thickness  above-mentioned, 
and  about  3  inches  in  diameter ;  put  them  into  hot 
water,  over-night,  having  cracked  them  first.  Let 
the  vessel  containing  them  stand  near  the  fire-place 
all  night.  They  will  dissolve  by  the  morning,  and 
then  you  use  them  in  setting  your  sponge  (as  it  is 
called)  precisely  as  you  would  use  the  yeast  of  beer. 
206.  There  are  two  things  which  may  be  consi- 
dered by  the  reader  as  obstacles.  FIRST,  where  are 
we  to  get  the  Indian  Meal?  Indian  Meal  is  used 
merely  because  it  is  of  a  less  adhesive  nature  than 
that  of  wheat.  White  pea-meal,  or  even  barley-meal, 
would  do  just  as  well.  But  SECOND,  to  dry  the  cakes, 
to  make  them  (and  quickly  too,  mind)  as  hard  as  ship 
biscuit  (which  is  much  harder  than  the  timber  of 
Scotch  firs  or  Canada  firs;)  and  to  do  this  in  the  sun 
(for  it  must  not  be /ire,)  where  are  we,  in  this  climate, 
to  get  the  sun?  In  1816  we  could  not;  for,  that  year, 
melons  rotted  in  the  glazed  frames  and  never  ripen- 
ed. But,  in  every  nine  summers  out  of  ten,  we  have 
in  June,  in  July,  or  in  August,  a  fortnight  of  hot  sun, 
and  that  is  enough.  Nature  has  not  given  us  a  peach- 
climate;  but  we  get  peaches.  The  cakes,  when  put 
in  the  sun,  may  have  a  glass  sash,  or  a  hand-light, 
put  over  them.  This  would  make  their  birth  hotter 
than  that  of  the  hottest  open-air  situation  in  America. 
In  short  to  a  farmer's  wife,  or  any  good  housewife, 
all  the  little  difficulties  to  the  attainment  of  such  an 
object  would  appear  as  nothing.  The  will  only  is 
required ;  and,  if  there  be  not  that,  it  is  useless  to 
think  of  the  attempt. 


VII.]  SWEDISH  TURNIP.  121 

SOWING  SWEDISH  TURNIP  SEED. 

207.  IT  is  necessary  to  be  a  little  more  full  than  I 
have  been  before  as  to  the  manner  of  sowing  this 
seed ;  and  I  shall  make  my  directions  such  as  to  be 
applied  on  a  small  or  a  large  scale. — Those  that  want 
to  transplant  on  a  large  scale  will,  of  course,  as  to 
the  other  parts  of  the  business,  refer  to  my  larger 
work. — It  is  to  get  plants  for  transplanting'  that  I 
mean  to  sow  the  Swedish  Turnip  Seed.  The  time 
for  sowing  must  depend  a  little  upon  the  nature  of 
the  situation  and  soil.  In  the  north  of  England, 
perhaps  early  in  April  may  be  best ;  but,  in  any  of 
these  southern  counties,  any  time  after  the  middle  of 
April  and  before  the  10th  of  May,  is  quite  early 
enough.  The  ground  which  is  to  receive  the  seed 
should  be  made  very  fine,  and  manured  with  wood- 
ashes,  or  with  good  compost  well  mixed  with  the 
earth.  Dung  is  not  so  good ;  for  it  breeds  the  fly  more ; 
or,  at  least,  I  think  so.  The  seed  should  be  sown 
in  drills  an  inch  deep,  made  as  pointed  out  under  the 
head  of  Sowing  in  my  book  on  Gardening.  When 
deposited  in  the  drills  evenly  but  not  thickly,  the 
ground  should  be  raked  across,  the  drills,  so  as  to  fill 
them  up;  and  then  the  whole  of  the  ground  should  be 
trodden  hard,  with  shoes  not  nailed,  and  not  very 
thick  in  the  sole.  The  ground  should  be  laid  out  in 
four -feet  beds  for  the  reasons  mentioned  in  the  "Gar- 
dener" When  the  seeds  come  up,  thin  the  plants 
to  two  inches  apart  as  soon  as  you  think  them  clear 
from  the  fly;  for,  if  left  thicker,  they  injure  each 
other  even  in  this  infant  state.  Hoe  frequently  be- 
tween the  rows  even  before  thinning  the  plants ;  and 
when  they  are  thinned,  hoe  well  and  frequently  be- 
tween them  ;  for  mis  has  a  tendency  to  make  them 
strong;  and  the  hoeing  before  thinning  helps  to  keep 
off  the  fly.  A  rod  of  ground,  the  rows  being  eight 
inches  apart,  and  plants  two  inches  apart  in  the 'Vow, 
will  contain  about  two  thousand  two  hundred  plants. 
An  acre  in  rows  four  feet  apart  and  the  plants  a  foot 
apart  in  the  row,  will  take  about  ten  thousand  four 
11 


122  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

hundred  and  sixty  plants.  So  that  to  transplant  an 
acre,  you  must  sow  about  five  rods  of  ground.  The 
plants  should  be  kept  very  clean ;  and,  by  the  last 
week  in  June,  or  first  in  July,  you  put  them  out. 
I  have  put  them  out  (in  England)  at  all  times  be- 
tween 7th  of  June  and  middle  of  August.  The  first 
is  certainly  earlier  than  I  like;  and  the  very  finest  I 
ever  grew  in  England,  and  the  finest  I  ever  saw  for 
a  large  piece,  were  transplanted  on  the  14th  of  July. 
But  one  year  with  another,  the  last  week  in  June  is 
the  best  time.  For  size  of  plants,  manner  of  trans- 
planting, intercultivation,  preparing  the  land,  and  the 
rest,  see  "  Yearns  Residence  in  America" 


No.  VIII. 

On  the  converting  of  English  Grass,  and  Grain 
Plants  cut  green,  into  Straw,  for  the  purpose  of 
making  Plat  for  Hats  and  Bonnets. 

KENSINGTON,  MAY  30,  1823. 

208.  THE  foregoing  Numbers  have  treated,  chieflyf 
of  the  management  of  the  affairs  of  a  labourer's  family, 
and  more  particularly  of  the  mode  of  disposing  of  the 
money  earned  by  the   labour  of  the    family.     The 
present  Number  will  point  out  what  I  hope  may  be- 
come an  advantageous  kind  of  labour.     All  along  I 
have  proceeded  upon  the  supposition,  that  the  wife 
and  children  of  the  labourer  be,  as  constantly  as  pos- 
sible, employed  in  work  of  some  sort  or  other.     The 
cutting,  the  bleaching,  the  sorting,  and  the  platting  - 
of  straw,  seem  to  be,  of  all  employments,  the  best  suit- 
ed to  the  wives  and  children  of  country   labourers  ; 
and  the  discovery  which  I   have  made,  as   to   the 
means  of  obtaining  the  necessary  materials,  will  en- 
able them  to  enter  at  once  upon  that  employment. 

209.  Before  I  proceed  to  give  my  directions  rela- 
tive to  the  performance  of  this  sort  of  labour,  I  shall 
give  a  sort  of  history  of  the  discovery  to  which  I  have 
just  alluded. 


VIII.]  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  123 

210.  The  practice  of  making  hats,  bonnets,  and 
other  things,  of  straw,  is  perhaps  of  very  ancient  date; 
but  not  to  waste  time  in  fruitless  inquiries,  it  is  very 
well  known  that,  for  many  years  past,  straw  cover- 
ings for  the  head  have  been  greatly  in  use  in  England, 
in  America,  and,  indeed,  in  almost  all  the  countries 
that  we  know  much  of.     In  this  country  the  manu- 
facture was,  only  a  few  years  ago,  very  flourishing  ; 
but  it  has  now  greatly  declined,  and  has  left  in  po- 
verty and  misery  those  whom  it  once  well  fed  and 
clothed. 

211.  The  cause  of  this  change  has  been,  the  im- 
portation of  the  straw  hats  and  bonnets  from  Italy, 
greatly  superior,  in  durability  and  beauty,  to  those 
made  in  England.     The  plat  made  in  England  was 
made  of  the  straw  of  ripened  grain.     It  was,  in  ge- 
neral, split ;  but  the  main  circumstance  was,  that  it 
was  made  of  the  straw  of  ripened  grain  ;  while  the 
Italian  plat  was  made  of  the  straw  of  grain,  or  grass, 
cut  green.     Now,  the  straw  of  ripened  grain  or  grass 
is  brittle ;  or,  rather,  rotten.     It  dies  while  standing, 
and,  in  point  of  toughness,  the  difference  between  it 
and  straw  from  plants  cut  green- is  much  about  the 
the  same  as  the  difference  between  a  stick  that  has 
died  on  the  tree,  and  one  that  has  been  cut  from  the 
tree.     But  besides  the  difference  in  point  of  tough- 
ness, strength,  and  durability,  there  was  the  differ- 
ence in  beauty.     The  colour  of  the  Italian  plat  was 
better  ;  the  plat  was  brighter;  and  the  Indian  straws, 
being  small  w!w(e  straws,  instead  of  small  straws 
made  by  the  splitting  of  large  ones,  here  was  a  round- 
'ness  in  them,  that  gave  light  and  shade  to  the  plat, 
which  could  not  be  given  by  our  flat  bits  of  straw. 

212.  It  seems  odd,  that  nobody  should  have  set  to 
work  to  find  out  how  the  Italians  came  by  this  fine 
straw.     The  importation  of  these  Italian  articles  was 
chiefly  from  the  port  of  LEGHORN  ;  and  therefore  the 
bonnets   imported   were    called   Leghorn   Bonnets, 
The  straw  manufacturers  in  this  country  seem  to  have 
made  no  effort  to  resist  this  invasion  from  Leghorn, 
And,  which  is  very  curious,  the  Leghorn  straw  has 


124  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

now  began  tobe  imported,  and  to  be  platted  in  this  coun- 
try. So  that  we  had  hands  to  plat  as  well  as  the 
Italians.  All  that  we  wanted  was  the  same  kind  of 
straw  that  the  Italians  had  :  and  it  is  truly  wonder- 
ful that  these  importations  from  Leghorn  should  have 
gone  on  increasing  year  after  year,  and  our  domestic 
manufacture  dwindling  away  at  a  like  pace,  without 
there  having  been  any  inquiry  relative  to  the  way 
in  which  the  Italians  got  their  straw  !  Strange,  that 
we  should  have  imported  even  straw  from  Italy,  with- 
out inquiring  whether  similar  straw  could  not  be  got 
in  England!  There  really  seems  to  have  been  an 
opinion,  that  England  could  IH>  more  produce  this 
straw  than  it  could  produce  the  sugar-cane. 

213.  Things  were  in  this  state,  when  in  1821,  a 
Miss  WOODHOUSE,  a  farmer's  daughter  in  CONNECTI- 
CUT, sent  a  straw-bonnet  of  her  own  making  to  the 
Society  of  Arts  in  London.     This  bonnet,  superior  in 
fineness  and  beauty  to  anything  of  the  kind  that  had 
come  from  Leghorn,  the  maker  stated  to-  consist  of  a 
sort  of  grass  of  which  she  sent  along  with  the  bonnet 
some  of  the  seeds.     The  question  was,  then,  would 
these  precious  seeds  grow  and  produce  plants  in  per- 
fection in  England  ?     A  large  quantity  of  the  seed 
"had  not  been  sent :  and  it  was  therefore,  by  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Society,  thought  desirable  to  get,  with  as 
little  delay  as  possible,  a  considerable  quantity  of  the 
seed. 

214.  It  was  in  this  stage  of  the  affair  that  my  attention 
was  called  to  it.  The  member  just  alluded  to  applied 
to  me  to  get  the  seed  from  America.  I  was  of  opinion 
that  there  could  be  no  sort  of  grass  in  Connecticut 
that  would  not,  and  that  did  not,  grow  and  flourish  in 
England.     My  son  JAMES,  who  was  then  at  New- 
York,  had  instructions  from  me,  in  June  1821,  to  go 
to  Miss  WOODHOUSE,  and  to  send  me  home  an  account 
of  the  matter.     In  September,  the  same  year,  I  Jieard 
from  him,  who  sent  me  an  account  of  the  cutting  and 
bleaching,  and  also  a  specimen  of  the  plat  and  grass 
of   Connecticut.    Miss    WOODHOUSE    had   told   the 
Society  of  Arts,  that  the  grass  used  was  the  Poa 


VIIL]  ENGLISH   STRAW   PLAT.  125 

Pratensis.  This  is  the  smooth-stalked  meadow- 
grass.  So  that  it  was  quite  useless  to  send  for  seed. 
It  was  clear,  that  we  had  grass  enough  in  England, 
if  we  could  but  make  it  into  straw  as  handsome  as 
that  of  Italy, 

215.  Upon  my  publishing  an  account  of  what  had 
taken  place  with  regard  to  the  American  Bonnet,  an 
importer  of  Italian  straw  applied  to   me  to  know 
whether  I  would  undertake  to  import  American  straw. 
He  was  in  the  habit  of  importing  Italian  straw,  and  of 
having  it  platted  in  this  country  ;  but  having  seen  the 
bonnet  of  Miss  WOODHOUSE,  he  was  anxious  to  get 

•  the  American  straw.  This  gentleman  showed  me 
some  Italian  straw  which  he  had  imported,  and  as 
the  seed  heads  were  on,  I  could  not  see  what  plant  it 
was.  The  gentleman  who  showed  the  straw  to  me, 
told  me  (and,  doubtless,  he  believed)  that  the  plant 
was  one  that  would  not  grow  in  England.  I  how- 
ever, who  looked  at  the  straw  with  the  eyes  of  a  far- 
mer, perceived  that  it  consisted  of  dry  oat,wheat,  and 
rye  plants,  and  of  Bennet  and  other  common  grass 
plants. 

216.  This  quite   settled  the   point  of  growth  in 
England.     It  was  now  certain   that    we    had   the 
plants  in  abundance;  and  the  only  question  that  re- 
mained to  be  determined  was,  Had  we  SUN  to  give 
to  those  plants  the  beautiful  colour  which  the  Ame- 
rican and  Italian  straw  had  ?     If  that  colour  were  to 
be  obtained  by  art,  by  any  chemical  applications,  we 
could  obtain  it  as  easily  as  the  Americans  or  the 
Italians  ;  but,  if  it  were  the  gift  of  the  SUN  solely, 
here  might  be  a  difficulty  impossible  for  us  to  over- 
come.    My  experiments  have  proved  that  the  fear  of 
such  difficulty  was  wholly  groundless. 

217.  It  was  late  in  September  1821  that  I  obtained 
this  knowledge,  as  to  the  kind  of  plants  that  produ- 
ced-the  foreign  straw.     I  could,  at  that  time  of  the 
year,  do  nothing  in  the  way  of  removing  my  doubts 
as  to  the  powers  of  our  Sun  in  the  bleaching  of  grass ; 
but  I  resolved  to  do  this  when  the  proper  season  for 
bleaching-  should   return.     Accordingly,  when  the 


126  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

next  month  of  June  came,  I  went  into  the  country 
for  the  purpose.  I  made  my  experiments,  and,  in 
short,  I  proved  to  demonstration,  that  we  had  not 
only  the  plants,  but  the  sun  also,  necessary  for  the 
making  of  straw,  yielding  in  no  respect  to  that  of 
America  or  of  Italy.  I  think  that,  upon  the  whole, 
we  have  greatly  the  advantage  of  those  countries ; 
for  grass  is  more  abuudant  in  this  country  than  in 
any  other.  It  flourishes  here  more  than  in  any  oth- 
er country.  It  is  here  in  a  greater  variety  of  sorts  ; 
and  for  fineness  in  point  of  size,  there  is  no  part  of 
the  world  which  can  equal  what  might  be  obtained 
from  some  of  our  downs,  merely  by  keeping  the  land 
ungrazed  till  the  month  of  July. 

218.  When  I  had  obtained  the  straw,  I  got  some  of 
it  made  into  plat.     One  piece  of  this  plat  was  equal 
in  point  of  colour,  and  superior  in  point  of  fineness, 
even  to  the  plat  of  the  bonnet  of  Miss  WOODHOUSE. 
It  seemed,  therefore,  now  to  be  necessary  to  do  no- 
thing more  than  to  make  all  this  well  known  to  the 
country.     As  the  SOCIETY  OF  ARTS  had  interested  it- 
self in  the  matter,  and  as  I  heard  that,  through  its 
laudable  zeal,  several  sowing's  of  the  foreign  grass- 
seed  had  been  made  in  England,  I  communicated  an 
account  of  my  experiments  to  that  Society.     The 
first  communication  was  made  by  me  on  the  19th  of 
February  last,  when  I  sent  to  the  Society,  specimens 
of  my  straw  and  also  of  the  plat.     Some  time  after 
this  I  attended  a  committee  of  the  Society  on  the 
subject,  and  gave  them  a  verbal  account  of  the  way 
in  which  I  had  gone  to  work. 

219.  The  committee  had,  before  this,  given  some 
of  my  straw  to  certain  manufacturers  of  plat,  in  order 
to  see  what  it  would  produce.     These  manufacturers, 
with  the  exception  of  one,  brought  such  specimens  of 
plat  as  to  induce,  at  first  sight,  any  one  to  believe 
that  it  was  nonsense  to  think  of  bringing  the  thing 
to  any  degree  of  perfection  !     But,  was  it  possible  to 
believe  this  ?     Was  it  possible    to   believe   that  it 
could  answer  to  import  straw  from  Italy,  to  pay  a 
twenty  per  cent,  duty  on  that  straw,  and  to  have  it 


VIII.]  ENGLISH   STRAW   PLAT.  127 

platted  here ;  and  that  it  would  not  answer  to  turn 
into  plat  straw  of  just  the  same  sort  grown  in  Eng- 
land ?  It  was  impossible  to  believe  this;  but  possi- 
ble enough  to  believe,  that  persons  now  making 
profit  by  Italian  straw,  or  plat,  'or  bonnets,  would 
rather  that  English  straw  should  come  to  shut  out 
the  Italian  and  to  put  an  end  to  the  Leghorn  trade. 

220.  In  order  to  show  the  character  of  the  reports 
of  those  manufacturers,  I  sent  some  parcels  of  straw 
into  Hertfordshire,  and  got  back,  in  the  course  of  five 
days,  fifteen  specimens  of  plat.  These  I  sent  to  the 
Society  of  Arts  on  the  3d  of  April ;  and  I  here  insert 
a  copy  of  the  letter  which  accompanied  them. 

TO  THE  SECRETARY  OF  THE  SOCIETY  OF  ARTS. 

KENSINGTON,  April  3,  1823. 

SIR, — With  this  letter  I  send  you  sixteen  speci- 
mens of  plat,  and  also  eight  parcels  of  straw,  in  order  to 
show  the  sorts  that  the  plat  is  made  out  of.  The  num- 
bers of  the  plat  correspond  with  those  of  the  straw; 
but  each  parcel  of  straw  has  two  numbers  attached 
to  it,  except  in  the  case  of  the  first  number,  which  is 
the  wheat  straw.  Of  each  kind  of  straw  a  parcel  of 
the  stoutest  and  a  parcel  of  the  smallest  were  sent  to 
be  platted ;  so  that  each  parcel  of  the  straw  now  sent, 
except  that  of  the  wheat,  refers  to  two  of  the  pieces  of 
plat.  For  instance,  2  and  3  of  the  plat  is  of  the  sort 
of  straw  marked  2  and  3 ;  4  and  12  of  the  plat  is  of 
the  sort  of  straw  marked  4  and  12;  and  so  on.  These 
parcels  of  straw  are  sent  in  order  that  you  may  know 
the  kind  of  straw,  or  rather,  of  grass,  from  which  the 
several  pieces  of  plat  have  been  made.  This  is  very 
material;  because  it  is  by  those  parcels  of  straw  that 
the  kinds  of  grass  are  to  be  known. 

The  piece  of  plat  No.  16  is  American;  all  the  rest 
are  from  my  straw.  You  will  see,  that  15  is  the  finest 
plat  of  all.  No.  7  is  from  the  stout  straws  of  the 
same  kind  as  No.  15.  By  looking  at  the  parcel  of 
straw  Nos.  7  and  15,  you  will  see  what  sort  of  grass 
this  is.  The  next,  in  point  of  beauty  and  fineness 


128  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

combined,  are  the  pieces  Nos.  13  and  8 ;  and  by  look- 
ing at  the  parcel  of  straw,  Nos.  13  and  8,  you  will 
see  what  sort  of  grass  that  is.  Next  comes  10  and  5, 
which  are  very  beautiful  too ;  and  the  sort  of  grass, 
you  will  see,  is  the  common  Bennet.  The  wheat, 
you  see,  is  too  coarse ;  and  the  rest  of  the  sorts  are 
either  too  hard  or  too  brittle.  I  beg  you  to  look  at 
Nos.  10  and  5.  Those  appear  to  me  to  be  the  thing 
to  supplant  the  Leghorn.  The  colour  is  good,  the 
straws  work  well,  they  afford  a  great  variety  of  sizes, 
and  they  come  from  the  common  Bennet  gross, 
which  grows  all  over  the  kingdom,  which  is  culti- 
vated in  all  our  fields,  which  is  in  bloom  in  the  fair 
month  of  June,  which  may  be  grown  as  fine  or  as 
coarse  as  we  please,  and  ten  acres  of  which  would, 
I  dare  say,  make  ten  thousand  bonnets.  However,  7 
and  15,  and  8  and  13,  are  very  good;  and  they  are  to 
be  got  in  every  part  of  the  kingdom. 

As  to  platters,  it  is  to  be  too  childish  to  believe  that 
they  are  not  to  be  got,  when  I  could  send  off  these 
straws,  and  get  back  the  plat,  in  the  course  of  five 
days.  Far  better  work  than  this  would  have  been 
obtained  if  I  could  have  gone  on  the  errand  myself. 
What  then  will  people  not  do,  who  regularly  under- 
take the  business  for  their  livelihood? 

I  will,  as  soon  as  possible,  send  you  an  account  of 
the  manner  in  which  I  went  to  work  with  the  grass. 
The  card  or  plat,  which  I  sent  you  some  time  ago, 
you  will  be  so  good  as  to  give  me  back  again  some 
time  ;  because  I  have  now  not  a  bit  of  the  American 
plat  left. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  most  humble  and  most  obedient 
servant,  WM.  COBBETT. 

221.  I  should  observe,  that  these  written  communi- 
cations of  mine  to  the  Society,  belong,  in  fact,  to  it, 
and  will  be  published  in  its  PROCEEDINGS,  a  volume 
of  which  comes  out  every  year ;  but,  in  this  case, 
there  would  have  been  a  year  lost  to  those  who 
may  act  in  consequence  of  these  communications 
being  made  public.  The  grass  is  to  be  got,  in  great 


VIIL]          ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  129 

quantities  and  of  the  best  sorts,  only  in  June  and 
July;  and  the  Society's  volume  does  not  come  out 
till  December.  The  Society  has,  therefore,  given  its 
consent  to  the  making  of  the  communications  public 
through  the  means,  of  this  little  work  of  mine. 

222.  Having  shown  what  sort  of  plat  could  be  pro- 
duced from  English  grass-straw,  I  "next  communi- 
cated to  the  Society  an  account  of  the  method  which 
I  pursued  in  the  cutting  and  bleaching  of  the  grass. 
The  letter  in  which  I  did  this  I  shall  here  insert  a 
copy  of,  before  I  proceed  further.  In  the  original  the 
paragraphs  were  numbered  from  one  to  seventeen: 
they  are  here  marked  by  letters,  in  order  to  avoid 
confusion,  the  paragraphs  of  the  work  itself  being 
marked  by  numbers. 

TO  THE  SECRETARY  OF  THE  SOCIETY  OF  ARTS. 

KENSINGTON",  April  14,  1823. 

A. — SIR, — Agreeably  to  your  request,  I  now  com- 
municate to  you  a  statement  of  those  particulars 
which  you  wished  to  possess,  relative  to  the  speci- 
mens of  straw  and  of  plat  which  I  have  at  dif- 
ferent times  sent  to  you  for  the  inspection  of  the 
Society. 

B. — That  my  statement  may  not  come  too  abrupt- 
ly upon  those  members  of  the  Society  who  have  not 
had  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  the  progress  of 
this  interesting  inquiry.  I  will  take  a  short  review  of 
the  circumstances  which  led  to  the  making  of  my 
experiments. 

C. — In  the  month  of  June,  1821,  a  gentleman,  a 
member  of  the  Society,  informed  me,  by  letter,  that  a 
Miss  WOODHOUSE,  a  farmer's  daughter,  of  Weathers- 
field,  in  Connecticut,  had  transmitted  to  the  Society 
a  straw-bonnet  of  very  fine  materials  and  manufac- 
ture ;  that  this  bonnet  (according  to  her  account)  was 
made  from  the  straw  of  a  sort  of  grass  called  poa 
pratensis;  that  it  seemed  to  be  unknown  whether 
the  same  grass  would  grow  in  England ;  that  it  was 
desirable  to  ascertain  whether  this  grass  would  grow 


130  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

in  England ;  that,  at  all  events,  it  was  desirable  to 
get  from  America  some  of  the  seed  of  this  grass  ;  and 
that,  for  this  purpose,  my  informant,  knowing  that 
I  had  a  son  in  America,  addressed  himself  to  me,  it 
being  his  opinion  that,  if  materials  similar  to  those 
used  by  Miss  WOODHOUSE  could  by  any  means  be 
grown  in  England,  the  benefit  to  the  nation  must 
be  considerable.  ,•  vv  . 

D. — In  consequence  of  this  application,  I  wrote  to 
my  son  James,  (then  at  New  York,)  directing  him  to 
do  what  he  was  able  in  order  to  cause  success  to  the 
undertaking.  On  the  receipt  of  rny  letter,  in  July, 
he  went  from  New  York  to  Weathersfield,  (about  a 
hundred  and  twenty  miles;)  saw  Miss  WOODHOUSE; 
made  the  necessary  inquiries;  obtained  a  specimen 
of  the  grass,  and  also  of  the  plat,  which  other  per- 
sons at  Weatherstield,  as  well  as  Miss  WOODHOUSE, 
were  in  the  habit  of  making ;  and  having  acquired 
the  necessary  information  as  to  cutting  the  grass 
and  bleaching  the  straw,  he  transmitted  to  me  ah 
account  of  the  matter ;  which  account,  together  with 
his  specimens  of  grass  and  plat,  I  received  in  the 
month  of  September. 

E. — I  was  now,  when  I  came  to  see  the  specimen 
of  grass,  convinced  that  Miss  WOODHOUSE'S  mate- 
rials could  be  grown  in  England;  a  conviction 
which,  if  it  had  not  been  complete  at  once,  would 
have  been  made  complete  immediately  afterwards  by 
the  sight  of  a  bunch  of  bonnet-straw  imported  from 
Leghorn,  which  straw  was  shown  to  me  by  the  im- 
porter, and  which  I  found  to  be  that  of  two  or  three 
sorts  of  our  common  grass,  and  of  oats?  wheat,  and 
rye. 

F. — That  the  grass,  or  plants,  could  be  grown  in 
England  was,  therefore,  now  certain,  and  indeed 
that  they  were,  in  point  of  commonness,  next  to  the 
earth  itself.  But  before  the  grass  could,  with  pro- 
priety, be  called  materials  for  bonnet-making,  there 
was  the  bleaching  to  be  performed ;  and  it  was  by 
no  means  certain  that  this  could  be  accomplished  by 
means  of  an  English  sun,  the  difference  between 


VIII.]  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  131 

which  and  that  of  Italy  or  Connecticut  was  well 
known  to  be  very  great. 

G. — My  experiments  have,  I  presume,  completely 
removed  this  doubt.  I  think  that  the  straw  produced 
by  me  to  the  Society,  and  also  some  of  the  pieces  ot 
plat,  are  of  a  colour  which  no  straw  or  plat  can  sur- 
pass. All  that  remains,  therefore,  is  for  me  to  give 
an  account  of  the  manner  in  which  I  cut  and  bleached 
the  grass  which  I  have  submitted  to  the  Society  in 
the  state  of  straw. 

H. — First,  as  to  the  season  of  the  year,  all  the 
straw,  except  that  of  one  sort  of  couch-grass,  and  the 
long  coppice-grass,  which  two  were  got  in  Sussex, 
were  got  from  grass  cut  in  Hertfordshire  on  the  21st  of 
June.  A  grass  head-land,  in  a  wheat-field,  had  been 
mowed  during  the  forepart  of  the  day,  and  in  the  af- 
ternoon I  went  and  took  a  handful  here  and  a  handful 
there  out  of  the  swaths.  When  I  had  collected  as 
much  as  I  could  well  carry,  I  took  it  to  my  friend's 
house,  and  proceeded  to  prepare  it  for  bleaching,  ac- 
cording to  the  information  sent  me  from  America  by 
my  son;  that  is  to  say,  I  put  my  grass  into  a  shallow 
tub,  put  boiling  water  upon  it  until  it  was  covered  by 
the  water,  let  it  remain  in  that  state  for  ten  minutes, 
then  took  it  out,  and  laid  it  very  thinly  on  a  closely- 
mowed  lawn  in  a  garden.  But  I  should  observe, 
that,  before  I  put  the  grass  into  the  tub,  I  tied  it  up 
in  small  bundles,  or  sheaves,  each  bundle  being  about 
six  inches  through  at  the  butt-end.  This  was  neces- 
sary, in  order  to  be  able  to  take  the  grass,  at  the  end 
of  ten  minutes,  out  of  the  water,  without  throwing 
it  into  a  confused  mixture  as  to  tops  and  tails.  Being 
tied  up  in  little  bundles,  I  could  easily,  with  a  prong, 
take  it  out  of  the  hot  water.  The  bundles  were  put 
into  a  large  wicker  basket,  carried  to  the  lawn  in  the 
garden,  and  there  taken  out,  one  by  one,  and  laid  in 
swaths  as  before-mentioned. 

I. — It  was  laid  very  thinly;  almost  might  I  say,  that 
no  stalk  of  grass  covered  another.  The  swaths  were 
turned  once  a  day.  The  bleaching  was  completed 


132  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

at  the  end  of  seven  days  from  time  of  scalding 
and  laying  out.  June  is  a  fine  month.  The  grass 
was,  as  it  happened,  cut  on  the  longest  day  in  the 
year ;  and  the  weather  was  remarkably  fine  and 
clear.  But  the  grass  which  I  afterwards  cut  in  Sus- 
sex, was  cut  in  the  first  week  in  August;  and  as  to 
the  weather  my  journal  speaks  thus : — 

August,  1822. 

2d. — Thunder  and  rain. — Began  cutting  grass. 
3d. — Beautiful  day. 
4th. — Fine  day. 

5th. — Cloudy  day. — Began  scalding  grass,  and  laying  it  out. 
6th. — Cloudy  greater  part  of  the  day. 
7th. — Fame  weather. 

8th.— Cloudy  and  rather  misty.— Finished  cutting  grass. 
9th. — Dry  but  cloudy. 

10th. — Very  close  and  hot. — Packed  up  part  of  the  grass. 
llth,  12th,  13th,  and  14th.— Same  weajher. 
15th. — Hot  and  clear. — Finished  pac/cing  the  grass. 

K. — The  grass  cut  in  Sussex  was  as  well  bleached 
as  that  cut  in  Hertfordshire;  so  that  it  is  evident  that 
we  never  can  have  a  summer  that  will  not  Afford  sun 
sufficient  for  this  business. 

L. — The  part  of  the  straw  used  for  platting  'it 
part  of  the  stalk  which  is  above  the  upper  joint, ;  ,t 
part  which  is  between  the  upper  joint  and  the  seed- 
branches,  This  part  is  taken  out,  and  the  rest  of 
the  straw  thrown  away.  But  the  whole  plant  must 
be  cut  and  bleached;  because,  if  you  were  to  take 
off,  when  green,  the  part  above  described,  that  part 
would  wither  up  next  to  nothing.  This  part  must 
die  in  company  with  the  whole  plants,  and  be  sepa- 
rated from  the  other  parts  after  the  bleaching  has 
been  performed. 

M. — The  time  of  cutting  must  vary  with  the  sea- 
sons, the  situation,  and  the  sort  of  grass.  The  grass 
which  I  got  in  Hertfordshire,  than  which  nothing 
can,  I  think,  be  more  beautiful,  was,  when  cut,  ge- 
nerally in  bloom;  Justin  bloom.  The  wheat  was  in 
full  bloom ;  so  that  a  good  time  for  getting  grass  may 
be  considered  to  be  that  when  the  wheat  is  in  bloom. 
When  I  cut  the  grass  in  Sussex,  the  wheat  was  ripe. 
for  reaping  had  begun  j  but  that  grass  is  of  a  very 


VIII.]  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  138 

backward  sort,  and,  besides,  grew  in  the  shade 
amongst  coppice-wood  and  under  trees,  which  stood 
pretty  thick. 

N. — As  to  the  sorts  of  grass,  I  have  to  observe  ge- 
nerally, that  in  proportion  'as  the  colour  of  the  grass 
is  deep;  that  is  to  say,  getting  further  from  the  yel- 
low, and  nearer  to  the  blue,  it  is  of  a  deep  and  dead 
yellow  when  it  becomes  straw.  Those  kinds  of  grass 
are  best  which  are,  in  point  of  colour,  nearest  to  that 
of  wheat,  which  is  a  fresh  pale  green.  Another  thing 
is,  the  quality  of  the  straw  as  to  'pliancy  and  tough- 
ness. Experience  must  be  our  guide  here.  I  had  not 
time  to  make  a  large  collection  of  sorts  ;  but  those 
which  I  have  sent  to  you  contain  three  sorts  which 
are  proved  to  be  good.  In  my  letter  of  the  3d  instant 
I  sent  you  sixteen  pieces  of  plat  and  eight  bunches 
of  straw,  having  the  seed  heads  on,  in  order  to  show 
the  sorts  of  grass.  The  sixteenth  piece  of  plat  was 
American.  The  first  piece  was  from  wheat  cut  and 
bleach^S  by  me ;  the  rest  from  grass  cut  and  bleached 
\  -I  will  here,  for  fear  of  mistake,  give  a  list  of 
jUr  Aames  of  the  several  sorts  of  grass,  the  straw  of 
which  was  sent  with  my  letter  of  the  3d  instant,  re- 
ferring to  the  numbers,  as  placed  on  the  plat  and  on 
the  bunches  of  straw. 

'PIECES  BUNCHES  SORTS 

OF  PLAT.  OF  STRAW.  OF  GRASS.          ',  $f,v'  * 

No  1.—  .    .      No.  1.      .    .        —Wheat. 

2.  )  o^io  S  Melica    CseruJea  :   or.  Purple  Melica 

3.  V     '    '        an          '     '      I     Grass. 

4.  .      ,  10  \  Agrostis  Stolonifera ;  or,  Florin  Grass; 
12.        '-,*.;                   '    '     (    that  is  to  say,  one  sort  of  Couch-grass. 

5. 
10. 
6. 


5  and  10    ...    Lolium  Perenne ;  or,  Ray-grass. 


6  and  11  $Avena   Flavescens;    or,    Yellow  Oat 


7  and  15 

8  and  13 


Cynosurus  Cristatus;  or,  Crested  Dog's- 
tail  grass. 

Anthoxanthum  Odoratum ;  or,  Sweet 
scented  Vernal  grass. 


9.  /  g  and  ^  <  Agrostis   Canina  ;    or,    Brown  Bent 

O. — These  names  are  those  given  at  the  Botanical 
Garden  at  Kew.    But  the  same  English  names  are 
12 


134  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

not  in  the  country  given  to  these  sorts  of  grass.  The 
Florin  grass,  the  Yellow  Oat-grass,  and  the  Brown- 
Bent,  are  all  called  couch-grass;  except  that  the  latter 
is,  in  Sussex,  called  Red  Robin.  It  is  the  native  grass 
of  the  plains  of  Long  Island ;  and  they  call  it  Red 
Top.  The  Ray-grass  is  the  common  field  grass, 
which  is,  all  over  the  kingdom,  sown  with  clover.  The 
farmers,  in  a  great  part  of  the  kingdom,  call  it  Bent, 
or  Bennett,  grass;  and  sometimes  it  is  qalled  Darnel- 
grass.  The  Crested  Dog^s-tail  goes,  in  Sussex,  by 
the  name  of  Hendonbent;  for  what  reason  I  know 
not.  The  sweet-scented  Vernal-grass  I  have  never, 
amongst  the  farmers,  heard  any  name  for.  Miss 
WOODHOUSE'S  grass  appears,  from  the  plants  that  I 
saw  in  the  Adelphi,  to  be  one  of  the  sorts  of  Couch- 
grass..  Indeed,  I  am  sure  that  it  is  a  Couch-grass,  if 
the  plants  I  there  saw  came  from  her  seed.  My  son, 
who  went  into  Connecticut,  who  saw  the  grass  grow- 
ing, and  who  sent  me  home  a  specimen  of  it,  is  now 
in  England :  he  was  with  me  when  I  cut  the  grass 
in  Sussex;  and  he  says  that  Miss  WOODHOUSE'S  was 
a  Couch-grass.  However,  it  is  impossible  to  look  at 
the  specimens  of  straw  and  of  plat  which  I  have  sent 
you,  without  being  convinced  that  there  is  no  want 
of  the  raw  material  in  England.  I  was,  after  my  first 
hearing  of  the  subject,  very  soon  convinced  that  the 
grass  grew  in  England ;  but  I  had  great  doubts  as  to 
the  capacity  of  our  sun.  Those  doubts  my  own  ex- 
periments have  completely  removed ;  but  then  I  was 
not  aware  of  the  great  effect  of  the  scalding,  of  which, 
by  the  way,  Miss  WOODHOUSE  had  said  nothing,  and 
the  knowledge  of  wrnch  we  owe  entirely  to  my  son 
James'  journey  into  Connecticut. 

P. — Having  thus  given  you  an  account  of  the  time 
and  manner  of  cutting  the  grass,  of  the  mode  of  cut- 
ting and  -bleaching ;  having  given  you  the  best  ac- 
count I  am  able,  as  to  the  sorts  of  grass  to  be  em- 
ployed in  this  business ;  and  having,  in  my  former 
communications,  given  you  specimen^  of  the  plat 
wrought  from  the  several  sorts  of  straw,  I  might  here 
close  my  letter  ;  but  as  it,  may  be  useful  to  speak  of 


VIII.]  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  135 

the  expense  of  cutting  and  bleaching,  I  shall  trouble 
you  with  a  few  words  relating  to  it.  If  there  were 
a  field  of  Ray-grass,  or  of  Crested  Dog's-tail,  or  any 
other  good  sort,  and  nothing  else  growing  with  it, 
the  expense  of  cutting  would  be  very  little  indeed, 
seeing  that  the  scythe  or  reap-hook  would  do  the 
business  at  a  great  rate.  Doubtless  there  will  be  such 
fields;  but  even  if  the  grass  have  to  be  cut  by  the 
handful,  my  opinion  is,  that  the  expense  of  cutting 
and  bleaching  would  not  exceed  fourpence  for  straw 
enough  to  make  a  large  bonnet.  I  should  be  willing 
to  contract  to  supply  straw,  at  this  rate,  for  half  a 
million  of  bonnets.  The  scalding  must  constitute  a 
considerable  part  of  the  expense ;  because  there  must 
be  fresh  water  for  every  parcel  of  grass  that  you  put 
in  the  tub.  When  water  has  scalded  one  parcel  of 
cold  grass,  it  will  not  scald  another  parcel.  Besides, 
the  scalding  draws  out  the  sweet  mutter  of  the  grass, 
and  makes  the  water  the  colour  of,  that  horrible  stuff 
called  London  porter.  It  would  be  very  good,  by-the- 
by,  to  give  to  pigs.  Many  people  give  hay-tea  to  pigs 
and  calves ;  and  this  is  grass-tea.  To  scald  a  large 
quantity,  therefore  would  require  means^not  usually 
at  hand,  and  the  scalding  is  an  essential  part  of  the 
business.  Perhaps,  in  a  large  and  convenient  farm- 
house, with  a  good  brewing  copper,  good -fuel  and 
water  handy,  four  or  five  women  might  scald  a  wagon 
load  in  a  day;  and  a  wagon  would,  I  think,  carry 
straw  enough  (in  the  rough)  to  furnish  the  means  of 
making  a>  thousand  bonnets.  However,  the  scalding 
'might  take  place  in  the  field  it&tf,  by  means  of  a 
portable  boiler,  especially  if  water  were  at  hand  ;  and 
perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  carry  the  water  to  the 
field  than  to  carry  the  grass  to  the  farm-house,  for 
there  must  be  ground  to  lay  it  out  upon  the  moment 
it  has  been  scalded,  and  no  ground  can  be  so  proper  as 
the  newly -mowed  ground  where  the  grass  has  stood. 
The  space,  too,  must  be  large,  for  any  considerable 
quantity  of  grass.  As  to  all  these  things,  however,  the 
best  and  cheapest  methods  will  soon  be  discovered 
when  people  set  about  the  work  with  a  view  to  profit. 


136  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

Q,. — The  Society  will  want  nothing  from  me,  nor 
from  any-body  else,  to  convince  it  of  the  importance 
of  this  matter;  but  I  cannot,  in  concluding  these  com- 
munications to  you,  Sir,  refrain  from  making  an  ob- 
servation or  two  on  the  consequences  likely  to  arise 
out  of  these  inquiries.  The  manufacture  is  alone 
of  considerable  magnitude.  Not  less  than  about^ve 
millions  of  persons  in  this  kingdom  have  a  dress 
which  consists  partly  of  manufactured  straw ;  and  a 
large  part,  and  all  the  most  expensive  part,  of  the 
articles  thus  used,  now  come  from  abroad.  In  cases 
where  you  can  get  from  abroad  any  article  at  less 
expense  than  you  can  get  it  at  home,  the  wisdom  of 
fabricating  that  article  at  home  may  be  doubted.  But, 
in  this  case,  you  get  the  raw  material  by  labour  per- 
formed at  home,  and  the  cost  of  that  labour  is  not 
nearly  so  great  as  would  be  the  cost  of  the  mere  car- 
riage of  the  straw  from  a  foreign  country  to  this.  If 
our  own  people  had  all  plenty  of  employment,  and 
that  too  more  profitable  to  them  and  to  the  country 
than  the  turning  of  a  part  of  our  own  grass  into 
articles  of  dress,  then  it  would  be  advisable  still  to 
import  Leghorn  bonnets ;  but  the  facts  being  the  re- 
verse, it  is  clear,  that  whatever  money,  or  money's 
worth  things,  be  sent  out  of  the  country,  in  exchange 
for  Leghorn  bonnets,  is,  while  we  have  the  raw  ma- 
terial here  for  next  to  nothing,  just  so  much  thrown 
away.  The  Italians,  it  may  be  said,  take  some  of 
our  manufactures  in  exchange;  and  let  us  suppose, 
for  the  purpose  of  illustration,  that  they  take  cloth 
from  Yorkshire.  £>top  the  exchange  between  Leg- 
horn and  Yorkshire,  and,  does  Yorkshire  lose  part 
of  its  custom?  No:  for  though  those  who  make  the 
bonnets  out  of  English  grass,  prevent  the  Leghorners 
from  buying  Yorkshire  cloth,  they,  with  the  money 
which  they  now  get,  instead  of  its  being  got  by  the 
Leghorners,  buy  the  Yorkshire  cloth  themselves;  and 
they  wear  this  cloth  too,  instead  of  its  being  worn  by 
the  people  of  Italy ;  ay,  Sir,  and  many,  now  in  rags, 
will  be  well  clad,  if  the  laudable  object  of  the  Society 
be  effected.  Besides  this,  however,  why  should  we 


VIII.]  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  137 

not  export  the  articles  of  this  manufacture  ?  To  Ame- 
rica we  certainly  should ;  and  I  should  not  be  at  all  sur- 
prised if  we  were  to  export  them  to  Leghorn  itself. 

R. — Notwithstanding  all  this,  however,  if  the 
manufacture  were  of  a  description  to  require,  in  order 
to  give  it  success,  the  collecting  of  the  manufacturers 
together  in  great  numbers,  I  should,  however  great 
the  wealth  that  it  might  promise,  never  have  done 
any  thing  to  promote  its  establishment.  The  contra- 
ry is  happily  the  case  :  here  all  is  not  only  performed 
by  handrbut  by  hand  singly,  without  any  combina- 
tion of  hands.  Here  there  is  no  power  of  machinery 
or  of  chemistry  wanted.  All  is  performed  out  in  the 
open  fields,  or  sitting  in  the  cottage.  There  wants 
no  coal  mines  and  no  rivers  to  assist;  no' water-pow- 
ers nor  powers  of  fire.  No  part  of  the  kingdom  is 
unfit  for  the  business.  Every -where  there  are  grass, 
water,  sun,  and  women  and  children's  fingers ;  and 
these  are  all  that  are  wanted.  But,  the  great  thing 
of  all  is  this ;  that,  to  obtain  the  materials  for  the  ma- 
king of  this  article  of  dress,  at  once  so  gay,  so  useful, 
and  in  some  cases  so  expensive,  there  requires  not  a 
penny  of  capital.  Many  of  the  labourers  now  make 
their  own  straw  hats  to  wear  in  summer.  Poor  rot- 
ten things,  made  out  of  straw  of  ripened  grain. 
With  what  satisfaction  will  they  learn  that  straw, 
twenty  times  as  durable,  to  say  nothing  of  the  beau- 
ty, is  to  be  got  from  every  hedge  ?  In  short  when 
the  people  are  well  and  clearly  informed  of  the  facts, 
which  I  have  through  you,  .Sir,  had  the  honour  to  lay 
before  the  Society,*. it  is  next  to  impossible  that  the 
manufacture  should  not  become  general  throughout 
the  country.  In  every  labourer's  house  a  pot  of  wa- 
ter can  be  boiled.  What  labourer's  wife  cannot,  in 
the  summer  months,  find  time  to  cut  and  bleach  grass 
enough  to  give  her  and  her  children  work  for  a  part  of 
the  winter?  There  is  no  necessity  for  all  to  be  platters. 
Some  may  cut  £nd  bleach  only.  Others  may  prepare 
the  straw,  as  mentioned  in  paragraph  L,  of  this  let- 
ter. And  doubtless,  as  the  farmers  in  Hertfordshire 
now  sell  their  straw  to  the  platters,  grass  collector* 
12* 


138  ENGLISH   STRAW  PLAT.  [INK 

and  bleachers  and  preparers  would  do  the  same. 
So  that  there  is  scarcely  any  country  labourer's  fami- 
ly that  might  not  derive  some  advantage  from  this 
discovery ;  and,  while  I  am  convinced  that  this  con- 
sideration has  been  by  no  means  over-looked  by  the 
Society,  it  has  been,, I  assure  you,  the  great  consider- 
ation of  all  with, 

Sir,  your  most  obedient  and 

most  humble  Servant, 

WM.  COBBETT. 

223.  In  the  last  edition,  this  closing  part  of  the 
work,  relative  to  the  straw  plat,  was  not  presented  to 
the  public  as  a  thing  which  admitted  of  no  alteration ; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  presented  to  the  public 
with  the  following  concluding  remark:  "  In  conclu- 
sion I  have  to  observe,  that  I  by  no  means  send  forth 
this  essay  as  containing  opinions  and  instructions 
that  are  to  undergo  no  alteration.  I  am,  indeed,  en- 
deavouring to  teach  others ;  but  I  am  myself  only  a 
learner.  Experience  will,  doubtless,  make  me  much 
more  perfect  in  a  knowledge  of  the  several  parts  of 
the  subject ;  and  the  fruit  of  this  experience  I  shall  be 
careful  to  communicate  to  the  public."  I  now  proceed 
to  make  g«od  this  promise.  Experience  has  proved 
that  very  beautiful  and  very  fine  .plat  can  be  made 
of  the  straw  of  divers  kinds  of  grass.  But  the  most 
ample  experience  has  also  proved  to  us  that  it  is 
to  the  straw  of  wheat,  that  we  are  to  look  for  a  man- 
ufacture to  supplant  the  Leghorn.  This  was  men- 
tioned as  a  strong  suspicion  in  my  former  edition  of 
this  work.  And  I  urged  my  readers  to  sow  wheat  for 
the  purpose.  The  fact  is  now  proved  beyond  all  con- 
tradiction, that  the  straw  of  wheat  or  rye,  but  particu- 
larly of  wheat,  is  the  straw  for  this  purpose.  Finer 
plat  may  be  made  from  the  straw  of  grass  than  can 
possibly  be  made  from  the  straw  of  wheat  or  rye : 
but  the  grass  plat  is,  all  of  it,  more  ,or  less  brittle; 
and  none  of  it  has  the  beautiful  and  uniform  colour  of 
the  straw  of  wheat.  Since  the  last  edition  of  this 
work,  I  have  received  packets  of  the  straw  from  Tus- 


ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  139 

cany,  all  of  wheat;  and,  indeed,  lam  convinced  that 
no  oth-sr  straw  is  any-thing  like  so  well  calculated 
for  the  purpose.  Wheat  straw  bleaches  better  than 
any  other.  It  has  that  fine,  pale,  golden  colour  which 
no  other  straw  has ;  it  is  much  more  simple,  more 
pliant  than  any  other  straw ;  and,  in  short,  this  is  the 
material.  I  did  not  urge  in  vain.  A  good'  quantity 
of  wheat  was  sowed  for  this  purpose.  A  great  deal 
of  it  has  been  well  harvested ;  and  I  have  the  plea- 
sure to  know  that  several  hundreds  of  persons  are 
now  employed  in  the  platting  of  straw.  One  more 
year;  one  more  crop  of  wheat;  and  another  Leghorn 
bonnet  will  never  be  imported  in  England.  Some 
great  errors  have  been  committed  in  the  sowing  of 
the  wheat,  and  in  the  cutting  of  it.  I  shall  now, 
therefore,  availing,  myself  of  the  experience  which  I 
have  gained,  offer  to  the  public  some  observations  on 
the  sort  of  wheat  to  be  sowed  for  this  purpose ; 
on  the  season  for  sowing;  on  the  land  to  be  used  for 
the  purpose  ;  on  the  quantity  of  seed,  and  the  man- 
ner of  sowing :  on  the  season  for  cutting ;  on  the 
manner  of  cutting,  bleaching,  and  housing;  on  the 
platting  ;  on  the  knitting,  and  on  the  pressing. 

224.  The  SORT  OF  WHEAT.     The  Leghorn 
plat  is  all  made  of  the  straw  of  the  spring  wheat. 
This  spring  wheat  is  so  called  by  us,  because  it  is 
sowed  in  the  spring,  at  the  same  time  that  barley  is 
sowed.     The  botanical  name  of  it  is  TRITICUM 
^STIVUM.     It  is  a  small-grained  bearded  wheat. 
It  has  very  fine  straw;  but  experience  h^s  convinced 
me,  that  the  little  brown-grained  winter  wheat  is  just 
as  good  for  the  purpose.     In  short,  any  wheat  will  do. 
I  have  now  in  my  possession  specimens  of  plat  made 
of  both  winter  and  spring  wheat,  and  I  see  no  differ- 
ence at  all.     I  am  decidedly  of  opinion  that  the  win- 
ter wheat  is  as  good  as  the  spring  wheat  for  the  pur- 
pose.    I  have  plat,  and  I  have  straw  both  now  before 
me,  and  the  above  is  the  result  of  my  experience. 

225.  THE     LAND     PROPER     FOR     THE 
GROWING  OF   WHEAT.    The  object  is  to  have 
the  straw  as  small  as  we  can  get  it.    The  lard  must 


140  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

not,  therefore,  be  too  rich ;  yet  it  ought  not  to  be  very 
poor.  If  it  be,  you  get  the  straw  of  no  length.  I 
saw  an  acre  this  year,  as  beautiful  as  possible,  sowed 
upon  a  light  loam,  which  bore  last  year  a  fine  crop 
of  potatoes.  The  land  ought  to  be  perfectly  clean, 
at  any  rate ;  so  that,  when  the  crop  is  taken  off,,  the 
wheat  straw  may  not  be  mixed  with  weeds  and  grass. 

226.  SEASON  FOR  SOWING.     This  will  be 
more  conveniently  stated  in  paragraph  228. 

227.  QUANTITY  OF  SEED  AND  MANNER 
OF  SOWING.   When  first  this  subject  was  started 
in  1821,  I  said,  in  the  Register,  that  I  would  engage 
to  grow  as  fine  straw  in  England  as  the  Ita.ians  could 
grow.     I  recommended  then,  as  a  first  guess,  fifteen 
bushels  of  wheat  to  the  acre.     Since  that,  reflection 
told  me  that  that  was  not  quite  enough.     I  therefore 
recommended  twenty  bushels  to  the  acre.     Upon  the 
beautiful  acre  which  I  have  mentioned  above,  eigh- 
teen bushels,  I  am  told,  were  sowed ;  fine  and  beau- 
tiful as  it  was,  I  think  it  would  have  been  better  if  it 
had  had  twenty  bushels ;  twenty  bushels,  therefore, 
is  what  I  recommend.    You  must  sow  broad  cast,  of 
course,  and  you  must  take  great  pains  to  cover  the 
seed  well.    It  must  be  a  good  even-handed  seedsman, 
and  there  must  be  very  nice  covering. 

228.  SEASON  FOR  CUTTING.     Now,  mind, 
it  is  fit  to  cut  in  just  about  one  week  after  the  bloom 
has  dropped.     If  you  examine  the  ear  at  that  time, 
you  will  find  the  grain  just  beginning  to  be  formed, 
and  that  is  precisely  the  time  to  cut  the  wheat:  The 
straw  has  then  got  its  full  substance  in  it.   But  I  must 
now  point  out  a  very  material  thing.     It  is  by  no 
means  desirable  to  have  all  your  wheat  fit  to  cut  at 
the  same  time.     It  is  a  great  misfortune,  indeed,  so  to 
have  it.     If  fit  to  cut  altogether,  it  ought  to  be  cut  all 
at  the  same  time ;  for  supposing  you  to  have  an  acre, 
it  will  require  a  fortnight  or  three  weeks  to  cut  it  and 
bleach  it,  unless  you  have  a  very  great  number  of 
hands,  and  very  great  vessels  to  prepare  water  in. 
Therefore,  if  I  were  to  have  an  acre  of  wheat  for 
this  purpose,   and  were  to  sow  all  spring  wheat,  I 


VIH  "|  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  141 

would  sow  <i  twelfth  part  of  the  acre  every  week  from 
the  first  week  in  March  to  the  last  week  in  May.  If  I 
relied  partly  upon  winter  wheat,  I  would  sow  some 
every  month,  from  the  latter  end  of  September  to 
March.  If  I  employed  the  two  sorts  of  wheat,  or 
indeed  if  I  employed  only  the  spring  wheat,  the 
TRITICUM  .ZEsTivuM,  I  should  have  some  wheat  fit  to 
cut  in  June,  and  some  not  fit  to  cut  till  September. 
I  should  be  sure  to  have  a  fair  chance  as  to  the 
weather.  And,  in  short,  it  would  be  next  to  impos- 
sible for  me  to  fail  of  securing  a  considerable  part 
of  my  crop.  I  beg  the  reader's  particular  attention 
to  the  contents  of  this  paragraph. 

229.  MANNER  OF  CUTTING  THE  WHEAT. 
It  is  cut  by  a  little  reap-hook,  close  to  the  ground  as 
possible.  It  is  then  tied  in  little  sheaves,  with  two 
pieces  of  string,  one  near  the  butt,  and  the  other 
about  half-way  up.  This  little  bundle  or  sheaf  ought 
to  be  six  inches  through  at  the  butt,  and  no  more.  It 
ought  not  to  be  tied  too  tightly,  lest  the  scalding 
should  not  be  perfect. 

230.  MANNER  OF  BLEACHING.  The  little 
sheaves  mentioned  in  the  last  paragraph  are  carried 
to  a  brewing  mash,  vat,  or  other  tub.  You  must  not 
put  them  into  the  tub  in  too  large  a  quantity,  lest 
the  water  get  chilled  before  it  get  to  the  bottom.  Pour 
on  scalding  water  till  you  cover  the  whole  of  the  little 
sheaves,  and  let  the  water  be  a  foot  above  the  top 
sheaves.  When  the  sheaves  have  remained  thus  a 
full  quarter  of  an  hour,  take  them  out  with  a  prong, 
lay  them  in  a  clothes-basket,  or  upon  a  hurdle,  and 
carry  them  to  the  ground  where  the  bleaching  is  to 
be  finished.  This  should  be,  if  possible,  a  piece  of 
grass  land,  where  the  grass  is  very  short.  Take  the 
sheaves,  and  lay  some  of  them  along  in  a  row;  untie 
them,  and  lay  the  straw  along  in  that  row  as  thin  as 
it  can  possibly  be  laid.  If  it  were  possible,  no  one 
straw  ought  to  have  another  lying  upon  it,  or  across  it. 
If  Inn  sur  be  clear,  it  will  require  to  lie  twenty-four 
hours  Jirs,  then  to  be  turned,  and  lie  twenty-four  ' 
hcnrs  or?  the  other  side.  If  the  sun  be  not  very  clear, 


142  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  [No. 

it  must  lie  longer.  But  the  numerous  sowings  which 
I  have  mentioned  will  afford  you  so  many  Chances, 
so  many  opportunities  of  having  fine  weather,  that 
the  risk  about  weather  would  necessarily  be  very 
small.  If  wet  weather  should  come,  and  if  your 
straw  remain  out  in  it  any  length  of  time,  it  will  be 
spoiled  ;  but,  according  to  the  mode  of  sowing  above 
pointed  out,  you  really  could  stand  very  little  chance 
of  losing  straw  by  bad  weather.  If  you  had  some 
straw  out  bleaching,  and  the  weather  were  to  appear 
suddenly  to  be  about  to  change,  the  quantity  that  you 
would  have  out  would  not  be  large  enough  to  prevent 
you  from  putting  it  under  cover,  and  keeping  it  there 
till  the  weather  changed. 

231.  HOUSING  THE  STRAW.     When  your 
straw  is  nicely  bleached,  gather  it  up,  and  with  the 
same  string  that  you  used  to  tie  it  when  green,  tie  it 
up  again  into  little  sheaves.     Put  it  by  in  some  room 
where  there  is  no  damp,  and  where  mice  and  rats  are 
not  suffered  to  inhabit.  Here  it  is  always  ready  for  use, 
and  it  will  keep,  I  dare  say,  four  or  five  years  very  well. 

232.  THE  PLATTING.     This  is  now  so  well 
understood  that  nothing  need  be  said  about  the  man- 
ner of  doing  the  work.    But  much  might  be  said  about 
the  measures  to  be  pursued  by  land-owners,  by  parish 
officers,  by  farmers,  and  more  especially  by  gentlemen 
and  ladies  of  sense,  public  spirit,  and  benevolence  of 
disposition.'    The  thing  will  be  done;  the  manufac- 
ture will  spread  itself  all  over  this  kingdom ;  but  the 
exertions  of  those  whom  I  have  here  pointed  out  might 
hasten  the  period  of  its  being  brought  to  perfection. 
And  I  beg  such  gentlemen  and  ladies  to  reflect  on  the 
vast  importance  of  such  manufacture,  which  it  is  im- 
possible to  cause  to  produce  any-thing  but  good.  One 
.of  the  great  misfortunes  of  England  at  this  day  is, 
that  the  land  has  had  taken  away  from  it  those  employ* 
merits  for  its  women  and  children  which  were  so  ne- 
cessary to  the  well-being  of  the  agricultural  labourer. 
The  spinning,  the  carding,  the  reeling,  the  knitting ; 
these  have  been  all  taken  away  from  the  land,  and 
given  to  the  Lords  of  the  Loom,  the  haughty  lords  of 


VIII.]  ENGLISH  STRAW  PLAT.  143 

bands  of  abject  slaves.  But  let  the  landholder  mark 
how  the  change  has  operated  to  produce  his  ruin.  He 
must  have  the  labouring  MAN  and  the  labouring 
BOY;  but,  alas!  he  cannot  have  these,  without  hav- 
ing the  man's  wife,  and  the  boy's  mother,  and  little 
sisters  and  brothers.  Even  Nature  herself  says,  that  he 
shall  have  the  wife  and  little  children,  or  that  he  shall 
not  have  the  man  and  the  boy.  But  the  Lords  of  the 
Loom,  the  crabbed-voiced,  hard-favoured,  hard-heart- 
ed, puffed -up,  insolent,  savage  and  bloody  wretches 
of  the  North  have,  assisted  by  a  blind  and  greedy 
Government,  taken  all  the  employment  away  from 
the  agricultural  women  and  children.  This  manu- 
facture of  Straw  will  form  one  little  article  of  em- 
ployment for  these  persons.  It  sets  at  defiance  all  the 
hatching  and  scheming  of  all  the  tyrannical  wretches 
who  cause  the  poor  little  creatures  to  die  in  their  fac- 
tories, heated  to  eighty-four  degrees.  There  will  need 
no  inventions  of  WATT  ;  none  of  your  horse  powers, 
nor  water  powers;  no  murdering  of  one  set  of  wretches 
in  the  coal  mines,  to  bring  up  the  means  of  murder- 
ing another  set  of  wretches  in  the  factories,  by  the 
heat  produced  from  those  coals ;  none  of  these  are 
wanted  to  carry  on  this  manufactory.  It  wants  no 
combination  laws;  none  of  the  inventions  of  the 
hard-hearted  wretches  of  the  North. 

233.  THE  KNITTING.     Upon  this   subject,   I 
have  only  to  congratulate  my  readers  that  there  are 
great  numbers  of  English  women  who  can  now  knit, 
plat  together,  better  than  those  famous  Jewesses  of 
whom  we  were  told. 

234.  THE  PRESSING.     Bonnets  and  hats  are 
pressed  after  they  are  made.     I  am  told  that  a  proper 
press  costs  pretty  nearly  a  hundred  pounds  ;  but,  then, 
that  it  will  do  a 'prodigious  deal  of  business.    I  would 
recommend  to  our  friends  in  the  country  to  teach  as 
many  children  as  they  can  to  make  the  plat.     The 
plat  will  be  knitted  in  London,  and  in  other  consider- 
able towns,  by  persons  to  whom  it  will  be  sold.  It  ap- 
pears to  me,  at  least,  that  this  will  be  the  course  that 
the  thing  will  take.     However,  we  must  leave  this  to 


144  ICE-HOUSES.  [No. 

time :  and  here  I  conclude  my  observations  upon  a  auL- 
ject  which  is  deeply  interesting  to  myself,  and  which 
the  public  in  general  deem  to  be  of  great  importance. 
235.  POSTSCRIPT  onbrewing.—I  think  it  right 
to  say  here,  that,  ever  since  I  published  the  instruc- 
tions for  brewing  by  copper  and  by  wooden  utensils, 
the  beer  at  my  own  house  has  always  been  brewed 
precisely  agreeable  to  the  instructions  contained  in 
this  book ;  and  I  have  to  add,  that  I  never  have  had 
such  good  beer  in  my  house  in  all  my  lifetime,  as 
since  I  have  followed  that  mode  of  brewing.  My 
table-beer,  as  well  as  my  ale,  is  always  as  clear  as 
wine.  I  have  had  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  quarters 
of  malt  brewed  into  beer  in  my  house.  My  people 
could  always  make  it  strong  enough  and  sweet 
enough;  but  never,  except  t>y  accident,  could  they 
make  it  CLEAR.  Now  I  never  have  any  that  is  not 
clear.  And  yet  my  utensils  are  all  very  small ;  and 
my  brewers  are  sometimes  one  labouring  man,  and 
sometimes  another.  A  man  wants  showing  how  to 
brew  the  first  time.  I  should  suppose  that  we  use,  in 
my  house,  about  seven  hundred  gallons  of  beer  every 
year,  taking  both  sorts  together;  and  I  can  positively 
assert,  that  there  has  not  been  one  drop  of  bad  beer, 
and  indeed  none  which  has  not  been  most  excellent, 
in  my  house,  during  the  last  two  years,  I  think  it  is, 
since  I  began  using  the  utensils,  and  in  the  manner 
named  in  this  booL 

ICE-HOUSES. 

.  236.  First  begging  the  reader  to  read  again  para- 
graph 149, 1  proceed  here,  in  compliance  with  numer- 
ous requests  to  that  effect,  to  describe,  as  clearly  as 
I  can,  the  manner  of  constructing  the  sort  of  Ice- 
houses therein  mentioned.  In  England,  these  recep- 
tacles of  frozen  water  are,  generally,  under  ground^ 
and  always,  if  possible,  under  the  shade  of  'trees -,  the 
opinion  being,  that  the  main  thing,  if  not  the  only 
thing,  is  to  keep  away  the  heat.  The  neat  is  to  be  kept 
away  certainly;  but  moisture  is  the  great  enemy  of 


VIIL]  ICE-HOUSES.  145 

Ice;  and  how  is  this  to  be  kept  away  either  under 
ground^  or  under  the  shade  of  trees  ?  Abundant  ex- 
perience has  proved,  that  no  thickness  of  wall,  that 
no  cement  of  any  kind,  will  effectually  resist  moisture. 
Drops  will,  at  times,  be  seen  hanging  on  the  under 
side  of  an  arch  of  any 'thickness,  and  made  of  any 
materials,  if  it  have  earth  over  it,  and  even  when  it 
has  the  floor  of  a  house  over  it ;  and  wherever  the 
moisture  enters,  the  ice  will  quickly  melt. 

237.  Ice-houses  should  therefore  be,    in  all  their 
parts,  as  dry  as  possible :  and  they  should  be  so  con- 
structed, and  the  ice  so  deposited  in  them,  as  to  en- 
sure the  running'  away  of  the  melting's  as  quickly  as 
possible,  whenever  such  meltings  come.     Any-thing 
in  way  of  drains  or  gutters,  is  too  slow  in  its  elfect ; 
and  therefore  there  must  be  something  that  will  not 
suffer  the  water  proceeding  from  any  melting,  to  re- 
main an  instant. 

238.  In  the  first  place,  then,  the  ice-house  should 
stand  in  a  place  quite  open  to  the  sun  and  air ;  for 
whoever  has  travelled,  even  but  a  few  miles  (having 
eyes  in  his  head)  need  not  be  told  how  long  that  part 
of  a  road  from  which  the  sun  and  wind  are  excluded 
by  trees,  or  hedges,  or  by  any-thing  else,  will  remain 
wet,  or  at  least  damp,  after  the  rest  of  the  road  is 
even  in  a  state  to  send  up  dust. 

239.  The  next  thing  is  to  protect  the  ice  against 
wet,  or  damp,  from  beneath.     It  should,  therefore, 
stand  on  some  spot  from  ichich  water  would  run  in 
every  direction;  and  if  the  natural  ground  presents 
no  such  spot,  it  is  no  very  great  job  to  make  it. 

240.  Then  come  the  materials  of  which  the  house 
is  to  consist.    These,  for  the  reasons  before-mention- 
ed, must  not  be  bricks,  stones,  mortar,  nor  earth ;  for 
these  are  all  affected  by  the  atmosphere ;  they  will 
become  damp  at  certain  times,  and  dampness  is  the 
great  destroyer  of  ice.     The  materials  are  wood  and 
straw.     Wood  will  not  do ;  for,  though  not  liable  to 
become  damp,  it  imbibes  heat  fast  enough ;  and,  be- 
sides, it  cannot  be  so  put  together  as  to  shut  out  air 
sufficiently.     Straw  is  wholly  free  from  the  quality 

13 


146  ICE-HOUSES.  [No, 

of  becoming  damp,  except  from  water  actually  put 
upon  it ;  and  it  can,  at  the  same  time,  be  placed  on  a 
roof,  and  on  sides,  to  such  a  degree  of  thickness  as 
to  exclude  the  air  in  a  manner  the  most  perfect.  The 
ice-house  ought,  therefore^  to  be  made  of  posts,  plates, 
rafters,  laths,  and  straw.  The  best  form  is  the  cir- 
cular; and  the  house,  when  made,  appears  as  I  have 
endeavoured  to  describe  it  in  Fig.  3  of  the  plate. 

241.  FIG.  1,  c,  is  the  centre  of  a  circle,  the  diame- 
ter of  which  is  ten  feet,  and  at  this  centre  you  put 
up  a  post  to  stand  fifteen,  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
ground,  which  post  ought  to  be  about  nine  inches 
through  at  the  bottom,  and  not  a  great  deal  smaller  at 
the  top.     Great  care  must  be  taken  that  this  post  be 
perfectly  perpendicular ;  for,  if  it  be  not,  the  whole 
building  will  be  awry. 

242.  bbb  are  fifteen  posts,  nine  feet  high,  and  six 
inches  through  at  the  bottom,  without  much  tapering 
towards  the  top.     These  posts  stand  about  two  feet 
apart,  reckoning  from  centre  of  post  to  centre  of  post, 
which  leaves  between  each  two  a  space  of  eighteen 
inches,    cccc  are  fifty-four  posts,  five  feet  high,  and 
five  inches   through  at  the  bottom,  without  much 
tapering  towards  the  top.     These  posts  stand  about 
two  feet  apart,  from  centre  of  post  to  centre  of  post, 
which  leaves  between  each  two  a  space  of  nineteen 
inches.     The  space  between  these,  two  rows  of  posts 
is  four  feet  in  width,  and,  as  will  be  presently  seen, 
is  to  contain  a  wall  of  straw. 

243.  e  is  a  passage  through  this  wall ;  cZis  the  out- 
side door  of  the  passage ;  f  is  the  inside  door;  and 
the  inner  circle,  of  which  a  is  the  centre,  is  the  place 
in  which  the  ice  is  to  be  deposited. 

244.  Well,  then,  we  have  now  got  the  posts  up ; 
and,  before  we  talk  of  the  roof  of  the  house,  or  of  the 
bed  for  the  ice,  it  will  be  best  to  speak  about  the  mak- 
ing of  the  wall.     It  is  to  be  made  of  straw,  wheat- 
straw,  or  rye-straw,  with  no  rubbish  in  it,  and  made 
very  smooth  by  the  hand  as  it  is  put  in.     You  lay  it 
IT?,  very  closely  and  very  smoothly,  so  that  if  the  wall 
were  cut  across,  as  at  g  g,  in  FIG.  2  (which  FIG.  2 


9 


,  C 


•  c 


Ify.2. 


Seal,"     rf  J?  29 

1   1    "    '      "»  .1    HI     I     1    t    .     .    ! 


148  ICE-HOUSE.  [No. 

represents  the  whole  building  cut  down  through  the 
middle,  omitting  the  centre  post,)  the  ends  of  the 
straws  would  present  a  compact  face  as  they  do  after 
a  cut  of  a  chaff-cutter.  But  there  requires  some- 
thing to  keep  the  straw  from  bulging  out  between  the 
posts.  Littie  stakes  as  big  as  your  wrist  will  answer 
this  purpose.  Drive  them  into  the  ground,  and  fasten, 
at  top,  to  the  plates,  of  which  1  am  now  to  speak. 
The  plates  are  pieces  of  wood  which  go  all  round 
both  the  circles,  and  are  nailed  on  upon  the  tops  of 
the  posts.  Their  main  business  is  to  receive  and  sus- 
tain the  lower  ends  of  the  rafters,  as  at  m  m  and  n  n» 
in  FIG.  2.  But  to  the  plates  also  the  stakes  just  men- 
tioned must  be  fastened  at  top.  Thus,  then,  there 
will  be  this  space  of  four  feet  wide,  having,  on  each 
side  of  it,  a  row  of  posts  and  stakes,  not  more  than 
about  six  inches  from  each  other,  to  hold  up,  and  to 
keep  in  its  place,  this  wall  of  straw. 

245.  Next  come  the  rafters,  as  from  s  to  n,  FIG.  2. 
Carpenters  best  know  what  is  the  number  and  what 
the  size  of  the  rafters;  but  from  s  to  m  there  need 
be  only  aiout  half  as  many  as  from  m  to  n.  How- 
ever, carpenters  know  all  about  this.  It  is  their  every- 
day work.  The  roof  is  forty-five  degrees  pitch,  as 
the  carpenters  call  it.  If  it  were  even  sharper,  it 
would  be  none  the  worse.  There  will  be  about  thirty 
ends  of  rafters  to  lodge  on  the  plate,  as  at  m;  and 
these  cannot  all  be  fastened  to  the  top  of  the  centre- 
post  rising  up.  from  a;  but  carpenters  know  how  to 
manage  this  matter,  so  as  to  make  all  strong  and 
safe.  The  plate  which  goes  along  on  the  tops  of 
the  row  of  posts,  b  b  b,  must,  of  course,  be  put  on  in 
a  .somewhat  sloping  form ;  otherwise  there  would 
be  a  sort  of  hip  formed  by  the  rafters.  However, 
the  thatch  is  to  be  so  deep,  that  this  may  not  be  of 
much  consequence.  Before  the  thatching  begins, 
there  are  laths  to  put  upon  the  rafters.  Thatchers 
know  all  about  this,  and  all  that  you  have  to  do  is,  to 
take  care  that  the  thatcher  tie  the  straw  on  well.  The 
best  way,  in  a  case  of  such  deep  thatch,  is  to  have  9 
ttrong  man  to  tie  for  the  thatcher. 


VIII.]  ICE-HOUSES.  149 

246.  The  roof  is  now  raftered,  and  it  is  to  receive 
a  thatch  of  clean,  sound,  and  well-prepared  wheat  or 
rye  straw,  four  feet  thick,  as  at  h  h  in  FIG.  2. 

247.  The  house  having  now  got  walls  and  roof,  the 
next  thing  is  to  make  the  bed  to  receive  the  ice.  This 
bed  is  the  area  of  the  circle  of  which  a  is  the  centre. 
You  begin  by  laying  on  the  ground  round  log's,  eight 
inches  through,  or  thereabouts,  and  placing  them 
across  the   area,  leaving   spaces   between   them   of 
about  a  foot.     Then,  crossways  on  them,  poles  about 
four  inches  through,  placed  at  six  inches  apart.  Then, 
crossways  on  them,  other  poles,  about  two  inches 
through,  placed  at  three  inches  apart.     Then,  cross- 
ways  on  them,  rods  as  thick  as  your  ringer,  placed  at 
an  inch  apart.  Then  upon  these,  small,  clean,  dry,  last- 
winter-cut  twigs,  to  the  thickness  of  about  two  inches ; 
or,  instead  of  these  twigs,  good,  clean,  strong  heath, 
free  from  grass  and  moss,  arid  from  rubbish  of  all  sorts. 

248.  This  is  the  bed  for  the  ice  to  lie  on  ;  and  as 
you  see,  the  top  of  the  bed  will  be  seventeen  inches 
from  the  ground.  •The  pressure  of  the  ice  may,  per- 
haps, bring  it  to  fourteen,  or  to  thirteen.     Upon  this 
bed  the  ice  is  put,  broken  and  pummelled,  and  beaten 
down  together  in  the  usual  manner. 

249.  Having  got  the  bed  filled  with  ice,  we  have 
next  to  shut  it  safely  up.     As  we  have  seen,  there  is 
a  passage  (e).     Two  feet  wide  is  enough  for  this 
passage;  and,  being  as  long  as  the  wall  is  thick,  it  is 
of  course,  four  feet  long.     The  use  of  the  passage  is 
this :  that  you  may  have  two  doors,  so  that  you  may, 
in  hot  or  damp  weather,  shut  the  outer  door,  while 
you  have  the  inner  door  open.     This  inner  door  may 
be  of  hurdle-work,  and  straw,  and  covered,  on  one  of 
the  sides,  with  sheep-skins  with  the  wool  on,  so  as  to 
keep  out  the  external  air.     The  outer-door,  which 
must  lock,  must  be  of  wood,  made  to  shut  very  close- 
ly, and,  besides,  covered  with  skins  like  the  other. 
At  times  of  great  danger  from  heat,  or  from  wet,  the 
whole  of  the  passage  may  be  filled  with  straw.    The 
door  (p.  FIG.  3)  should  face  the  North,  or  between 
North  and  East. 

13* 


150  1CE-HOUSE3.  [No. 

250.  As  to  the  size  of  the  ice-house,  that  must,  of 
course,  depend  upon  the  quantity  of  ice  that  you  may 
choose  to  have.   A  house  on  the  above  scale,  is  from 
ID  to  x  (FiG.  2)  twenty-nine  feet;  from  y  to  z  (Fio. 
2)  nineteen  feet.     The  area  of  the  circle,  of  which  a 
is  the  centre,  is  ten  feet  in  diameter,  and  as  this  area 
contains  seventy-five  superficial  feet,  you  will,  if  you 
put  ice  on  the  bed  to  the  height  of  only  five  feet,  (and 
you  may  put  it  on  to  the  height  of  seven  feet  from  the 
top  of  the  bed,)  you  will  have  three  hundred  and  se- 
venty-five cubic  feet  of  ice;  and,  observe,  a  cubic  foot 
of  ice  will,  when  broken  up,  fill  much  more  than  a 
Winchester  Bushel:  what  it  may  do  as  to  an  "  IMPE- 
RIAL BUSHEL,"  engendered  like  Greek  Loan  Commis- 
sioners, by  the  unnatural  heat  of  "  PROSPERITY,"  God 
only  knows  !    However,  I  do  suppose,  that,  without 
making  any  allowance  for  the    "cold  fit,"    as  Dr. 
Baring  calls  it,  into  which  "  late  panic"  has  Irought 
us ;  I  do  suppose,  that  even  the  scorching,  the  burn- 
ing dog-star  of  "IMPERIAL  PROSPERITY;"   nay,  that 
even  DIVES  himself,  would  hardlf  call  for  more  than 
two  bushels  of  ice  in  a  day  ;  for  more  than  two  bush- 
els a  day  it  would  be,  unless  it  were  used  in  cold  as 
well -as  in  hot  weather. 

251.  As  to  the  expense  of  such  a  house,  it  could, 
in  the  country,  not  be  much.    None  of  the  posts,  ex- 
cept the  main  or  centre-post,  need  be  very  straight. 
The  other  posts  might  be  easily  culled  from  tree-lops, 
destined  for  fire-wood.     The  straw  would  make  all 
straight.     The  plates  must  6f  necessity  be   short 
pieces  of  wood ;  and,  as  to  the  stakes,  the  laths,  and 
the  logs,  poles,  rods,  twigs,  and  heath,  they  would 
not  all  cost  twenty  shillings.    The  straw  is  the  prin- 
cipal article  ;  and,  in  most  places,  even  that  would 
not  cost  more  than  two  or  three  pounds.     If  it  last 
many  years,  the  price  could  not  be  an  object ;  and  if 
but  a  little  while,  it  would  still  be  nearly  as  good  for 
litter  as  it  was  before  it  was  applied  to  this  purpose. 
How  often  the  bottom  of  the  straw  walls  might  want 
renewing  I  cannot  say,  but  I  know  that  the  roof  would 
with  few  and  small  repairs,  last  well  for  ten  years. 


VIII.]  MANGEL  WURZEL.  151 

252.  I  have  said  that  the  interior  row  of  posts  is  to 
be  nine  feet  high,  and  the  exterior  row  five  feet  high. 
I,  in  each  Case,  mean,  with  the  plate  inclusive.    I 
have  only  to  add,  that  by  way  of  superabundant  pre- 
caution against  bottom  wet,  it  will  be  well  to  make  a 
sort  of  gutter,  to  receive  the  drip  from  the~  roof,  and 
to  carry  it  away  as  soon  as  it  falls. 

253.  Now,  after  expressing  a  hope  that  I  shall  have 
made  myself  clearly  understood  by  every  reader,  it  is 
necessary  that  I  remind  him,  that  I  do  not  pretend  to 
pledge  myself  for  the  complete  success,  nor  for  any 
success  at  all,  of  this  mode  of  making  ice-houses. 
But,  at  the  same  time,  I  express  my  firm  belief,  that 
complete  success  would  attend  it;  because  it  not 
only  corresponds  with  what  I  have  seen  of  such  mat- 
ters ;    but  I  had  the  details  from  a  gentleman  who 

^had  ample  experience  to  guide  him,  and  who  was  a 
man  on  whose  word  and  judgment  I  placed  a  per- 
fect reliance.  He  advised  me  to  erect  an  ice-house ; 
but  not  caring  enough  about  fresh  meat  and  fish  in 
summer,  or  at  least  not  setting  them  enough  above 
"prime  pork"  to  induce  me  to  take  any  trouble  to  se- 
cure the  former,  I  never  built  an  ice-house.  Thus, 
then,  I  only  communicate  that  in  which  I  believe; 
there  is,  however,  in  all  cases,  this  comfort,  that  if 
the  thing  fail  as  an  ice-house,  it  will  serve  all  gene- 
rations to  come  as  a  model  for  a  pig-bed. 


ADDITION. 

Kensington,  Nov.  14Z/1,  1831. 


MANGEL  WURZEL. 


254.  THIS  last  summer,  I  have  proved  that,  as  keep 
for  cows,  MANGEL  WDRZEL  is  preferable  to  SWEDISH 
TURNIPS,  whether  as  to  quantity  or  quality.  But 
there  needs  no  other  alteration  in  the  book,  than 
merely  to  read  mangel  wurzel  wherever  you  find 
Swedish  turnip ;  the  time  of  sowing,  the  mode  and 


152  MANGEL  WURZEL. 

time  of  transplanting,  the  distances,  and  the  cultiva- 
tion, all  being  the  same ;  and  the  only  difference  being 
in  the  application  of  the  leaves,  and  in  the  time  of 
harvesting"  the  roots. 

255.  The  leaves  of  the  MANGEL  WURZEL  are  of 
great  value,  especially  in  dry  summers.     You  begin, 
about  the  third  week  in  August,  to  take  off  by  a  down- 
ward pull,  the  leaves  of  the  plants  ;  and  they  are  ex- 
cellent food  for  pigs  and  cows;  only  observe  this,  that, 
if  given  to  cows,  there  must  be,  for  each  cow,  six 
pounds  of  hay  a  day,  which  is  not  necessary  in  the 
case  of  the  Swedish  turnips.     These  leaves  last  till 
the  crop  is  taken  up,  which  ought  to  be  in  the  first  week 
of  November.     The  taking  off  of  the  leaves  does  good 
to  the  plants  :  new  leaves  succeed  higher  up ;  and  the 
plant  becomes  longer  than  it  otherwise  would  be,  and, 
of  course,  heavier.     But,  in  taking  off  the  leaves,  you. 
must  not  approach  too  near  to  the  top. 

256.  When  you  take  the  plants  up  in  November,  you 
must  cut  off  the  crowns  and  the  remaining  leaves ;  and 
they,  again,  are  for  cows  and  pigs.     Then  you  put 
the  roots  into  some  place  to  keep  them  from  the  frost ; 
and,  if  you  have  no  place  under  cover,  put  them  in 
pies,  in  the  same  manner  as  directed  for  the  Swedish 
turnips.     The  roots  will  average  in  weight  10  Ibs,  each. 
They  may  be  given  to  cows  whole,  or  to  pigs  either, 
and  they  are  better  than  the  Swedish  turnip  for  both 
animals ;  and  they  do  not  give  any  bad  or  strong  taste 
to  the  milk  and  butter.     But,  besides  this  use  of  the 
mangel  wurzel,  there  is  another,  with  regard  to  pigs 
at  least,  of  very  great  importance.     The  juice  of  this 
plant  has  so  much  of  sweetness  in  it,  that,  in  France, 
they  make  sugar  of  it ;  and  have  used  the  sugar,  and 
found   it    equal  in    goodness  to    West  India  sugar. 
Many  persons  in  England  make  beer  of  this  juice,  and 
I  have  drunk  of  this  beer,  and  found  it  very  good. 
In  short,  the  juice  is  most  excellent  for  the  mixing 
of  moist  food  for  pigs.     I  am  now  (20th  Nov.  1831) 
boiling  it  for  this  purpose.     My  copper  holds  seven 
strike-bushels ;  I  put  in  three  bushels  of  mangel  wurzel 
cut  into  pieces  two  inches  thick,  and  then  fill  the 


COBBETT'S  CORN.  153 

copper  with  water.  I  draw  off  as  much  of  the  liquor 
as  I  want  to  wet  pollard,  or  meal,  for  little  pigs  or 
fatting-pigs,  and  the  rest,  roots  and  all,  I  feed  the 
yard-hogs  with ;  and  this  I  shall  follow  on  till  about 
the  middle  of  May. 

257.  If  you  give  boiled,  or  steamed,  potatoes  to  pigs, 
there  wants  some  liquor  to  mix  with  the  potatoes  ;  for 
the  water  in  which  potatoes  have  been  boiled  is  hurt- 
ful to  any  animal  that  drinks  it.  But  mix  the  potatoes 
with  juice  of  mangel  wurzel,  and  they  make  very  good 
food  for  hogs  of  all  ages.  .  The  mangel  wurzel  produ- 
ces a  larger  crop  than  the  Swedish  turnip. 


COBBETTS  CORN. 


258.  IF  you  prefer  bread  and  pudding  to   milk, 
butter,  and  meat,  this  corn  will  produce,  on  your  forty 
rods,  forty  bushels,  each  weighing  60  /6s.  at  the  least; 
and  more  flour,  in  proportion,  than  the  best  white 
wheat.     To  make  bread  with  it  you  must  use  two- 
thirds  wheaten,  or  rye,  flour ;  but  in  puddings  this  is 
not  necessary.     The  puddings  at  my  house  are  all 
made  with  tliis  flour,  except  meat  and  fruit  pudding; 
for  the  corn  flour  is  not  adhesive  or  clinging  enough 
to  make  paste,  or  crust.     This  corn  is  the. very  best 
for  hog-fatting  in  the  whole  world.     I,    last   April, 
sent  parcels  of  the  seed  into  several  counties,  to  be 
given  away  to  working  men  :  and  I  sent  them  instruc- 
tions for  the  cultivation,  which  I  shall  repeat  here. 

259.  I  will  first  describe  this  corn  to  you.     It  is 
that   which   is  sometimes  called  Indian  corn;  and 
sometimes  people  call  it  Indian  wheat.     It  is   that 
sort  of  corn  which  the  disciples  ate  as  they  were  going 
up  to  Jerusalem  on  the  Sabbath-day.     They  gathered 
it  in  the  fields  as  they  went  along  and  ate  it  green, 
they  being  "  an  hungered,"  for  which  you  know  they 
were  reproved  by  the  pharisees.     I  nave  written  a 
treatise  on  this  corn  in  a  book  which  I  sell  for  four 
shillings,  giving  a  minute  account  of  the  qualities,  the 
culture,  the  harvesting,  and  the  various  uses  of  this 
corn  ;  but  I  shall  here  confine  myself  to  what  is  ne- 


154  COBBETT'S  CORN. 

cessary  for  a  labourer  to  know  about  it,  so  that  he 
may  be  induced  to  raise  and  may  be  enabled  to  raise 
enough  of  it  in  his  garden  to  fat  a  pig  of  ten  score. 

260.  There  are  a  great  many  sorts  of  this   corn. 
They  all  come  from  countries  which  are  hotter  than 
England.     This  sort,  which  my  eldest  son  brought 
into  England,  is  a  dwarf  kind,  and  is  the  only  kind 
that  I  have  known  to  ripen  in  this  country :  and  I 
know  that  it  will  ripen  in  this  country  in  any  sum- 
mer ;  for  I  had  a  large  field  of  it  in  1828  and  1829  ; 
and  last  year  (my  lease  at  my  farm  being  out  at 
Michaelmas,   and  this  corn  not  ripening  till  late  in 
October)  I  had  about  two  acres  in  my  garden  at  Ken- 
sington.    Within  the  memory  of  man  there  have  not 
been  three  summers  so  cold  as  the  last,  one  after  ano- 
ther;  and  no  one  so  cold  as  the  last.     Yet  my  corn 
ripened  perfectly  well,  and  this  you  will  be  satisfied 
of  if  you  be  amongst  the  men  to  whom  this  corn  is 
given  from  me.     You  will  see  that  it  is  in  the  shape 
of  the  cone  of  a  spruce  fir ;  -you  will  see  that  the 
grains  are  fixed  round  a  stalk  which  is  called  the  cob. 
These  stalks  or  ears  come  out  of  the  side  of  the  plant, 
which  has  leaves  like  a  flag,  which  plant  grows  to 
about  three  feet  high,  and  has  two  or  three  and  some- 
times more,  of  these  ears  or  bunches  of  grain.  Out  of 
the  top  of  the  plant  comes  the  tassel,  which  resem- 
bles the  plumes  of  feathers  upon  a  hearse  ;  and  this 
is  the  flower  of  the  plant. 

261.  The  grain  is,  as  you  will  see,  about  the  size 
of  a  large  pea,  and  there  are  from  two  to  three  hun- 
dred of  these  grains  upon  the  ear,  or  cob.     In  my 
treatise,  I  have  shown  that,  in  America,  all  the  hogs 
and  pigs,  all  the  poultry  of  every  sort,  the  greater 
part  of  the  oxen,  and  a  considerable  part  of  the  sheep, 
are  fatted  upon  this  corn;  that  it  is  the  best  food  for 
horses  ;  and  that,  when  ground  and  dressed  in  vari- 
ous ways,  it  is  used  in  bread,  in  puddings,  in  several 
other  ways  in  families ;  and  that,  in  short,  it  is  the 
real  stafi  of  life,  in  all  the  countries  where  it  is  in 
common  culture,  and  where  the  climate  is  hot.  When 
used   for  poultry,  the  grain  is  rubbed  off  the  cob. 


COBBETT'S  CORN.  155 

Horses,  sheep,  and  pigs,  bite  the  grain  off,  and  leave 
the  cob  ;  but  horned  cattle  eat  cob  and  all. 

262.  1  am  to  speak  of  it  to  you,  however,  only  as  a 
thing  to  make  you  some  bacon,  for  which  use  it  sur-^ 
passes  all  other  grain  whatsoever.     When  the  grain 
is  in  the  whole  ear,  it  is  called  corn  in  the  ear  ; 
when  it  is  rubbed  off  the  cob,  it  is  called  shelled  corn. 
Now,  observe,  ten  bushels  of  shelled  corn  are  equal, 
in  the  fatting  of  a  pig,  to  fifteen  bushels  of  barley ; 
and  fifteen  bushels  of  barley,  if  properly  ground  and 
managed,  will  make  a  pig  of  ten  score,  if  he  be  not 
too  poor  when  you  begin  to  fat  him.     Observe  that 
everybody  who  has  been  in  America  knows,  that  the 
finest  hogs  in  the  world  are  fatted  in. that  country ; 
and  no  man  ever  saw  a  hog  fatted  in  that  country  in 
any  other  way  than  tossing  the  ears  of  corn  over  to 
him  in  the  sty,  leaving  him  to  bite  it  off  the  ear,  and 
deal  with  it  according  to  his  pleasure.  The  finest  and. 
solidest  bacon  in  the  world  is  produced  in  this  way. 

263.  Now,  then,  I  know,  that  a  bushel  of  shelled 
corn  may  be  grown  upon  one  single  rod  of  ground 
sixteen  feet  and  a  half  each  way  ;  I  have  grown  more 
than  that  this  last  summer ;  and  any  of  you  may  do 
the  same  if  you  will  strictly  follow  the  instructions 
which  I  am  now  about  to  give  you. 

1.  Late  in  March  (I  am  doing  it  now,)  or  in  the 
first  fortnight  of  April,  dig  your  ground  up  very  deep, 
and  let  it  lie  rough  till  between  the  seventh  and  fif- 
teenth of  May. 

2.  Then  (in  dry  weather  if  possible)  dig  up  the 
ground  again,  and  make  it  smooth  at  top.  Draw  drills 
with  a  line  two  feet  apart,  just  as  you  do  drills  for 
peas  ;  rub  the  grains '  off  the  cob ;  put  a  little  very 
rotten  and  fine  manure  along  the  bottom  of  the  drill ; 
lay  the  grains  along  upon  that  six  inches  apart ;  cover 
the  grain  over  with  fine  earth,  so  that  there  be  about 
an  inch  and  a  half  on  the  top  of  the  grain  ;    pat  the 
earth  down  a  little  with  the  back  of  a  hoe  to  make  it 
lie  solid  on  the  grain. 

3.  If  there  be  any  danger  of  slugs,  you  must  kill 
them  before  the  corn  comes  up  if  possible :  and  the 


156  COBBETT'S  CORN. 

best  way  to  do  this  is  to  put  a  little  hot  lime  in  a  bag, 
and  go  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  shake  the  bag 
all  round  the  edges  of  the  ground  and  over  the  ground. 
Doing  this  three  or  four  times  very  early  in  a  dewy 
morning,  or  just  after  a  shower,  will  destroy  all  the 
slugs  ;  and  this  ought  to  be  done  for  all  other  crops 
as  well  as  for  that  of  corn. 

4.  When  the  corn  comes  up,  you  must  take  care  to 
keep  all  birds  off  till  it  is  two  or  three  inches  high ; 
for  the  spear  is  so  sweet,  that  the  birds  of  all  sorts  are 
very  apt  to  peck  it  off,  particularly  the  doves  and 
the  larks  and  pigeons.     As  soon  as  it  is  fairly  above 
ground,  give  the  whole  of  the  ground  (in  dry  weather) 
a  flat  hoeing,  and  be  sure  to  move  all  the  ground  close 
round  the  plants.     When  the  weeds  begin  to  appear 
again,  give  the  ground  another  hoeing,  but  always  in 
dry  weather.    When  the  plants  get  to  be  about  a  foot 
high  or  a  little  more,  dig  the  ground  between  the 
rows,  and  work  the  earth  up  a  little  against  the  stems 
of  the  plants. 

5.  About  the  middle  of  August  you  will  see  the. 
tassel  springing  up  out  of  the  middle  of  the  plant,  and 
the  ears  coming  out  of  the  sides.     If  \veeds  appear  in 
the  ground,  hoe  it  again  to  kill  the  weeds,  so  that  the 
ground  may  be  always  kept  clean.     About  the  mid- 
dle of  September  you  will  find  the  grains  of  the  ears 
to  be  full  of  milk,  just  in  the  state  that  the  ears  were 
at  Jerusalem  when  the  disciples  cropped  them  to  eat. 
From  this  milky  state,  they,  like  the  grains  of  wheat, 
grow  hard ;    and  as  soon  as  the  grains  begin  to  be 
hard,  you  should  cut  off  the  tops  of  the  corn  and  the 
long  flaggy  leaves,  and  leave  the  ears  to  ripen  upon 
the  stalk  or  stem.  If  it  be  a  warm  summer,  they  will 
be  fit  to  harvest  by  the  last  of  October;  but  it  does 
not  signify  if  they  remain  dut  until  the  middle  of  No- 
vember or  even  later.    The  longer  they  stay  out,  the 
harder  the  grain  will  be. 

6.  Each  ear  is  covered  in  a  very  curious  mar»r»er 
with  a  husk.     The  best  way  for  you  will  be,  w.  -^i 
you  gather  in  your  crop  to  strip  off  the  husks,  to  tie 
the  ears  in  bunches  of  six  or  eight  or  ten,  and  to  hang 


COBBETT'S  CORN.  157 

them  up  to  nails  in  the  walls,  or  against  the  beams  of 
your  house  ;  for  there  is  so  much  moisture  in  the  cob 
that  the  ears  are  apt  to  heat  if  put  together  in  great 
parcels.  The  room  in  which  I  write  in  London  is 
now  hung  all  round  with  bunches  of  this  corn.  The 
bunches  may  be  hung  up  in  a  shed  or  stable  fora  while, 
and,  when  perfectly  dry,  they  may  be  put  into  bags. 

7.  Now,  as  to  the  mode  of  using  the  corn ;  if  for 
poultry,  you  must  rub  the  grains  off  the  cob ;  but  if 
for  pigs,  give  them  the  whole  ears.  You  will  find 
some  of  the  ears  in  which  the  grain  is  still  soft.  Give 
these  to  your  pig  first ;  and  keep  the  hardest  to  the 
last.  You  will  soon  see  how  much  the  pig  will  re- 
quire in  a  day,  because  pigs,  more  decent  than  many 
rich  men,  never  eat  any  more  than  is  necessary  to 
them.  You  will  thus  have  a  pig ;  you  will  have  two 
flitches  of  bacon,  two  pig's  cheeks,  one  set  of  souse, 
two  griskins,  two  spare-ribs,  from  both  which  I  trust 
in  God  you  will  keep  the  jaws  of  the  Methodist  par- 
son ;  and  if,  while  you  are  drinking  a  mug  of  your 
own  ale,  after  having  dined  upon  one  of  these,  you 
drink  my  health,  you  may  be  sure  that  it  will  give 
you  more  merit  in  the  sight  of  God  as  well  as  of 
man,  than  you  would  acquire  by  groaning  the  soul 
out  of  your  body  in  responses  to  the  blasphemous 
cant  of  the  sleekheaded  Methodist  thief  that  would 
persuade  you  to  live  upon  potatoes.  ^ 

264.  You  must  be  quite  sensible  that  I  cannot  have 
any  motive  but  your  good  in  giving  you  this  advice, 
other  than  the  delight  which  I. take  and  the  pleasure 
which  I  derive  from  doing  that  good.     You  are  all 
personally  unknown  to  me:  in  all  human  probability 
not  one  man  in  a  thousand  will  ever  see  me.     You 
have  no  more  power  to  show  your  gratitude  to  me 
than  you  have  to  cause  me  to  live  for  a  hundred  years. 
I  do  not  desire  that  you  should  deem  this  a  favour 
received  from  rne.     Tho  thing  is  worth  your  trying, 
at  any  rate. 

265.  The  corn  is  off  by  the  middle  of  November. 
The  ground  should  then  be  well  manured,  and  deeply 
dug,  and  planted  with  EARLY  YORK,  or  EARLY  DWARF 

14 


158  COBBETT'S  CORN. 

CABBAGES,  which  will  be  loaved  in  the  latter  end  of 
April,  and  may  be  either  sold  or  given  to  pigs,  or 
cows,  before  the  time  to  plant  the  corn  again.  Thus 
you  have  two  very  large  crops  on  the  same  ground 
in  the  same  year. 


INDEX. 


PARAGRAPH 

Acnir                                  -      '                     19 

PARAGRAPH 

Bees                                              1  60 

ice  nouses 

919 

Bread,  making  of      -    -    -    -      77 
Brewing  Beer    ....     20,  108 
See  also  "  POSTSCRIPT." 
Brewing-machine     ....      41 
Brougham,  Mr.      ....        41 
Candles  and  Rushes      -    -    -     199 
Castlereagh's  and  Mackintosh's 

T    hi   I 

•    108 

Malthus,  Parson     -    -    - 

-      141 
254 

Mustard     -    --   '    -    >    - 
Parks  Mr    

-      198 

98 

148 

Peel's  flimsy  Dresses    -    - 
Pigeons      

-    152 
-      181 
-    139 

Combination  Laws      ...      108 
Corn  Cobbett                    -         258 

Pitt's  false  Money   -    -    - 
Plat,  English  Straw      -    - 
Porter,  how  to  make   -    - 

-      152 
-    208 
71 
77 

Cusar   Mr       ......      QQ 

Custom  Laws     .....      108 

Drennen  Dr    -    -    -    -    -    -      80 

Rabbits      

184 

Dress,  Household  Goods, 
and  Fuel                «         -         199 

Salting  Mutton  and  Beef    - 
Stanhope,  Lord  ...    - 
Swedish  Turnips      -    -    - 
Turkeys    -----. 
Walter's  and  Stoddart's  Pai 

-    157 
-      144 
-    207 
-      171 
a- 
•    152 

Ducks    ....                 .      169 

Economy,  meaning  of  the  term  2,  3 

Ellman    Mr                             20   60 

Walter  Scott's  Poems 
Want,  the  Parent  of  Crime 
Wakefield,  Mr.  Edward     - 
Wilberforce's  Potatoe-Diet 
Winchelsea,  Lord  -    -    - 
Woodhouse,  Miss     -    -    - 
Yeast     - 

-      152 
-      18 
78,  99 
-    152 
-      144 
-    213 
203 

Fowls     -                                     176 

Oeese    -                                       167 

Hanning,  Mr.  Wm.     -    -    -        99 
Hill  Mr                                        98 

Hons     .'                                          202 

COBBETT'S 

POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND; 

A  DEFENCE  OF  THE    RIGHTS    OF  THOSE    WHO    DO 
THE  WORK,  AND   FIGHT  THE  BATTLES. 


COBBETT'S 
POOR   MAN'S    FRIEND. 


NUMBER  I. 

TO  THE 

.  <*• 

WORKING    CLASSES   OP    PRESTON. 

Burghclere,  Hampshire^  22d  August,  1826. 

MY  EXCELLENT  FRIENDS, 

1.  AMONGST  all  the  new,  the  strange,  the  unnatu- 
ral, the  monstrous  things  that  mark  the  present  times, 
or,  rather,  that  have  grown  out  of  the  present  system 
of  governing  this  country,  there  is,  in  my  opinion, 
hardly  any  thing  more  monstrous,  or  even  so  mon- 
strous, as  the  language  that  is  now  become  fashiona- 
ble, relative  to  the  condition  and  the  treatment  of  that 
part  of  the  community  which  are  usually  denomina- 
ted the  POOR ;  by  which  word  I  mean  to  designate 
the  persons  who,  from  age,  infirmity,  helplessness, 
or  from  want  of  the  means  of  gaining  anything  by 
labour,  become  destitute  of  a  sufficiency  of  food  or  of 
raiment,  and  are  in  danger  of  perishing  if  they  be  not 
relieved.     Such  are  the  persons  that  we  mean  when 
we  talk  of  THE  POOR  ;  and,  I  repeat,  that  amongst 
all  the  monstrous  things  of  these  monstrous  days, 
nothing  is,  in  my  opinion,  so  monstrous  as  the  lan- 
guage which  we  now  constantly  hear  relative  to  the 
condition  and  treatment  of  this  part  of  the  community. 

2.  Nothing  can  be  more  common  than  to  read,  in 
the  newspapers,  descriptions  the  most  horrible  of  the 
sufferings  of  the  Poor,  in  various  parts  of  England, 
but  particularly  in  the  North.     It  is  related  of  them, 

14* 


4  COBBETT'S  [No. 

that  they  eat  horse-flesh,  grains,  and  have  been  detect- 
ed in  eating  out  of  pig-troughs.  In  short,  they  are  rep- 
resented as  being  far  worse  fed  and  worse  lodged  than 
the  greater  part  of  the  pigs.  These  statements  of  the 
newspapers  may  be  false,  or,  at  least,  only  partially 
true  ;  but,  at  a  public  meeting  of  rate-payers,  at  Man- 
chester, on  the  17th  of  August,  Mr.  BAXTER,  the 
Chairman,  said,  that  some  of  the  POOR  had  been 
starved  to  death,  and  that  tens  of  thousands  were 
upon  the  point  of  starving ;  and,  at  the  same  meet- 
ing, Mr.  POTTER  gave  a  detail,  which  showed  that 
Mr.  BAXTER'S  general  description  was  true.  Other 
accounts,  very  nearly  official,  and,  at  any  rate,  being 
of  unquestionable  authenticity,  concur  so  fully  with 
the  statements  made  at  the  Manchester  Meeting,  that 
it  is  impossible  not  to  believe,  that  a  great  number  of 
thousands  of  persons  are  now  on  the  point  of  perish- 
ing for  want  of  food,  and  that  many  have  actually 
perished  from  that  cause;  and  that  this  has  taken 
place,  and  is  taking  place,  IN  ENGLAND. 

3.  There  is,  then,  no  doubt  of  the  existence  of  the 
disgraceful  and  horrid  facts ;  but  that  which  is  as  hor- 
rid as  are  the  facts  themselves,  and  even  more  horrid 
than  those  facts,  is  the  cool  and  unresentful  language 
and  manner  in  which  the  facts  are  usually  spoken  of. 
Those  who  write  about  the  misery  and  starvation  in 
Lancashire  and  Yorkshire,  never  appear  to  think 
that  any  body  is  to  blame,  even  when  the  poor  die 
with  hunger.  The  Ministers  ascribe  the  calamity  to 
"  over-trading";"  the  cotton  and  cloth  and  other  mas- 
ter-manufacturers ascribe  it  to  "  a  want  of  paper- 
money"  or  to  the  Corn-Bill;  others  ascribe  the  ca- 
lamity to  the  taxes.  These  last  are  right ;  but  what 
have  these  things  to  do  with  the  treatment  of  the 
poor  ?  What  have  these  things  to  do  with  the  horrid 
facts  relative  to  the  condition  and  starvation  of  Eng- 
lish people  ?  It  is  very  true,  that  the  enormous  taxes 
which  we  pay  on  account  of  loans  made  to  carry  on 
the  late  unjust  wars,  on  account  of  a  great  standing 
army  in  time  of  peace,  on  account  of  pensions,  sine- 
cures and  grants,  and  on  account  of  a  Church,  which, 


L]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  5 

besides,  swallows  up  so  large  a  part  of  the  produce  of 
the  land  and  the  labour;  it  is  very  true,  that  these 
enormous  taxes,  co-operating  with  the  paper-money^^ 
and  its  innumerable  monopolies  ;  it  is  very  true,  that 
these  enormous  taxes,  thus  associated,  have  produced 
the  ruin  in  trade,  manufactures  and  commerce,  and 
have,  of  course,  produced  the  low  wages  and  the 
want  of  employment;  this  is  very  true ;  but  it  is  not 
less  true,  that,  be  wages  or  employment  as  they  may, 
the  poor  are  not  to  perish  with  hunger,  or  with  cold, 
while  the  rest  of  the  community  have  food  and  rai- 
ment more  than  the  latter  want  for  their  own  suste- 
nance. The  LAW  OF  ENGLAND  says,  that  there 
shall  be  no  person  to  suffer  from  want  of  food  and  rai^^j 
ment.  It  has  placed  officers  in  every  parish  to  see 
that  no  person  suffer  from  this  sort  of  want ;  and  lest 
these  officers  should  not  do  their  duty,  it  commands 
all  the  magistrates  to  hear  the  complaints  of  the  poor, 
and  to  compel  the  officers  to  do  their  duty.  The  LAW 
OF  ENGLAND  has  provided  ample  means  of  relief 
for  the  poor;  for,  it  has  authorized  the  officers,  or 
overseers,  to  get  from  the  rich  inhabitants  of  the  par- 
ish as  much  money  as  is  wanted  for  the  purpose, 
without  any  limit  as  to  amount ;  and,  in  order  that 
the  overseers  may  have  no  excuse  of  inability  to  make 
people  pay,  the  law  has  armed  them  with  powers  of 
a  nature  the  most  efficacious  and  the  most  efficient 
and  most  prompt  in  their  operation.  In  short,  the 
language  of  the  LAW,  to  the  overseer,  is  this: 
"  Take  care  that  no  person  suffer  from  hunger,  or 
from  cold;  and  that  you  may  be  sure  not  to  fail  of 
the  means  of  obeying  this  my  command,  I  give  you, 
as  far  as  shall  be  necessary  for  this  purpose,  full 
power  over  all  the  lands,  all  the  houses,  all  the  goods, 
and  all  the  cattle,  in  your  parish."  To  the  Justices  of 
the  Peace  the  LAW  says:  "Lest the  overseer  should 
neglect  his  duty  ;  lest,  in  spite  of  my  command  to  him, 
any  one  should  suffer  from  hunger  or  cold,  I  command 
you  to  be  ready  to  hear  the  complaint  of  every  sufferer 
from  such  neglect ;  I  command  you  to  summon  the  of- 
fending overseer,  and  to  compel  him  to  do  his  duty." 


6  COBBETT'S  [No. 

4.  Such  being  the  language  of  the  LAW,  is  it  not 
a  monstrous  state  of  things,  when  we  hear  it  com- 
monly and  coolly  stated,  that  many  thousands  of  per- 
sons in  England  are  upon  the  point  of  starvation; 
that  thousands  will  die  of  hunger  and  cold  next  win- 
ter; that  many  have  already  died  of  hunger;  and 
when  we  hear  all  this,  unaccompanied  with  one 
word  of  complaint  against  any  overseer ,  or  any  jus- 
tice of  the  peace  !  Is  not  this  state  of  things  perfectly 
monstrous  ?  A  state  of  things  in  which  it  appears  to 
be  taken  for  granted,  that  the  LAW  is  nothing,  when 
\  it  is  intended  to  operate  as  a  protection  to  the  poor  ! 
Law  is  always  law :  if  one  part  of  the  law  may  be, 
with  impunity,  set  at  defiance,  why  not  another  and 
every  other  part  of  the  law?  If  the  law  which  pro-- 
vides  for  the  succour  of  the  poor,  for  the  preservation 
of  their  lives,  may  be,  with  impunity,  set  at  defiance, 
why  should  there  not  be  impunity  for  setting  at  defi- 
ance the  law  which  provides  for  the  security  of  the 
property  and  the  lives  of  the  rich  ?  If  you,  in  Lan- 
cashire, were  to  read,  in  an  account  of  a  meeting  in 
Hampshire,  that,  here,  the  farmers  and  gentlemen 
were  constantly  and  openly  robbed ;  that  the  poor 
were  daily  breaking  into  their  houses,  and  knocking 
their  brains  out ;  and  that  it  was  expected  that  great 
part  of  them  would  be  killed  very  soon :  if  you,  in 
Lancashire  were  to  hear  this  said  of  the  state  of 
Hampshire,  what  would  you  say?  Say  !  Why,  you 
would  say,  to  be  sure,  "  Where  is  the  LAW  ;  where 
are  the  constables,  the  justices,  the  juries,  the  judges, 
the  sheriffs,  and  the  hangmen?  Where  can  that 
Hampshire  be  ?  It,  surely,  never  can  be  in  Old  Eng- 
land. It  must  be  some  savage  country,  where  such 
enormities  can  be  committed,  and  where  even  those, 
who  talk  and  who  lament  the  evils,  never  utter  one 
word  in  the  way  of  blame  of  the  perpetrators.'5  And 
if  you  were  called  upon  to  pay  taxes,  or  to  make  sub- 
scriptions in  money,  to  furnish  the  means  of  protection 
to  the  unfortunate  rich  people  in  Hampshire,  would 
you  not  say,  and  with  good  reason,  "No :  what  should 
we  do  this  for?  The  people  of  Hampshire  have  the 


I.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  7 

SAME  LAW  that  we  have ;  they  are  under  the 
same  Government ;  lei  Ihem  duly  enforce  that  law; 
and  then  they  will  stand  in  no  need  of  money  from 
us  to  provide  for  their  protection." 

5.  This  is  what  common  sense  says  would  be  your 
language  in  such  a  case ;  and  does  not  common  sense 
say,  that  the  people  of  Hampshire,  and  of  every  other 
part  of  England,  will  thus  think,  when  they  are  told 
of  the  sufferings,  and  the  starvation,  in  Lancashire 
and  Yorkshire  !     The  report  of  the  Manchester  ley^     } 
payers,  which  took  place  on  the  17th  of  August, 
reached  me  in  a  friend's  house  in  this  little  village ; 
and  when  another  friend,  who  was  present,  read,  in 
the  speeches  of  Mr.  BAXTER  and  Mr.  POTTER,  that 
tens  of  thousands  of  Lancashire  people  were  on  the 
point  of  starvation,    and   that    many   had   already 
actually  died  from  starvation;   and  when  he  per- 
ceived, that  even  those  gentlemen  uttered  not  a  word 
of  complaint  against  either  overseer  or  justices  of  the 
peace,  he  exclaimed :  "  What !  are  there  no  poor-laws 
in  Lancashire  ?     Where,  amidst  all  this  starvation. 

is  the  overseer  ?  Where  is  the  justice  of  the  peace  ? 
Surely  that  Lancashire  can  never  be  in  England?" 

6.  The  observations  of  this  gentleman  are  those 
which  occur  to  every  man  of  sense  ;    when  he  hears 
the  horrid  accounts  of  the  sufferings  in  the  manufac- . 
turing  districts ;  for,  though  we  are  all  well  aware^l 
that  the  burden  of  the  poor-rates  presses,  at  this  time, 
with  peculiar  weight  on  the  land-owners  and  occu- 
piers, and  on  owners  and  occupiers  of  other  real  pro- 
perty, in  those  districts,  we  are  equally  well  aware, 
that  those  owners  and  occupiers  have  derived  great 
benefits  from  that  vast  population  that  now  presses 
upon  them.     There  is  land  in  the  parish  in  which  I 
am  now  writing,  and  belonging  to  the  farm  in  the 
house  of  which  I  am,  which  land  would  not  let  for 
20s.  a  statute  acre ;  while  land,  not  so  good,  would 
let,  in  any  part  of  Lancashire,  near  to  the  manufac- 
tories, at  605.  or  80s.  a  statute  acre.     The  same  may 
be  said  with  regard  to  houses.     And,  pray,  are  the 
owners  and  occupiers,  who  have  gained  so  largely  by 


8  COBBETT'S  [No. 

the  manufacturing  works  being  near  their  lands  and 
houses  ;  are  they,  now,  to  complain,  if  the  vicinage  of 
these  same  works  causes  a  charge  of  rates  there, 
heavier  than  exists  here  ?  Are  the  owners  and  occu- 

Eiers  of  Lancashire  to  enjoy  an  age  of  advantages 
*om  the  labours  of  the  spinners  and  the  weavers ; 
and  are  they,  when  a  reverse  comes,  to  bear  none  of 
the  disadvantages  ?  Are  they  to  make  no  sacrifices, 
in  order  to  save  from  perishing  those  industrious  and 
ever-toiling  creatures,  by  the  labours  of  whom  their 
land  and  houses  have  been  augmented  in  value,  three, 
five,  or  perhaps  tenfold  1  None  but  the  most  unjust  of 
mankind  can  answer  these  questions  in  the  affirmative. 
7.  But  as  greediness  is  never  at  a  loss  for  excuses 
for  the  hard-heartedness  that  it  is  always  ready  to 

Practise,  it  is  said,  that  the  whole  of  the  rents  of  the 
md  and  the  houses  would  not  suffice  for  the  purpose; 
that  is  to  say,  that  if  the  poor  rates  were  to  be  made 
so  high  as  to  leave  the  tenant  no  means  of  paying 
rent,  even  then  some  of  th£  poor  must  go  without  a 
sufficiency  of  food.  I  have  no  doubt  that,  in  particu- 
lar instances,  this  would  be  the  case.  But  for  cases 
like  this  the  LAW  has  amply  provided  ;  for,  in  every 
case  of  this  sort,  adjoining  parishes  may  be  made  to 
assist  the  hard  pressed  parish ;  and  if  the  pressure  be- 
comes severe  on  these  adjoining  parishes,  those  next 
adjoining  them  may  be  made  to  assist ;  and  thus  the  call 
upon  adjoining  parishes  may  be  extended  till  it  reach 
all  over  the  county.  So  good,  so  benignant,  so  wise,  so 
foreseeing,  and  so  effectual,  is  this,  the  very  best  of 
all  our  good  old  laws  !  This  law  or  rather  code  of 
laws,  distinguishes  England  from  all  the  other  coun- 
tries in  the  world,  except  the  United  States  of 
America,  where,  while  hundreds  of  other  English 
statutes  have  been  abolished,  this  law  has  always  re- 
mained in  full  force,  this  great  law  of  mercy  and 
humanity,  which  says,  that  no  human  being  that 
treads  English  ground  shall  perish  for  want  of  food 
and  raiment.  For  such  poor  persons  as  are  unable 
to  work,  the  law  provides  food  and  clothing;  and  it 
commands  that  work  shall  be  provided  for  such  as 


I.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  9 

are  able  to  work,  and  cannot  otherwise  get  employ- 
ment. This  law  was  passed  more  than  two  hundred 
years  ago.  Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  chip 
it  away,  and  some  have  been  made  to  destroy  it  alto- 
gether 5  but  it  still  exists,  and  every  man  who  does 
not  wish  to  see  general  desolation  take  place,  will 
do  his  best  to  cause  it  to  be  duly  and  conscientiously 
executed. 

8.  Having  now,  my  friends  of  Preston,  stated  what 
the  law  is,  and  also  the  reasons  for  its  honest  enforce- 
ment in  the  particular  case  immediately  before  us,  I 
will  next  endeavour  to  show  you  that  it  is  .found- 
ed in  the  law  of  nature,  and  that,  were  it  not  for 
the  provisions  of  this  law,  people  would,  accord- 
ing to  the  opinions  of  the  greatest  lawyers,  have  a 
right  to  take  food  and  raiment  sufficient  to  preserve 
them  from  perishing ;  and  that  such  taking  would 
be  neither  felony  nor  larceny.  This  is  a  matter  of 
the  greatest  importance  ;  it  is  a  most  momentous 
question  ;  for  if  it  be  settled  in  the  affirmative — if  it 
be  settled  that  it  is  not  felony ,  nor  larceny,  to  take 
other  men's  goods  without  their  assent,  and  even 
against  their  will,  when  such  taking  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  the  preservation  of  life,  how  great,  how 
imperative,  is  the  duty  of  affording,  if  possible,  that 
relief  which  will  prevent  such  necessity !  In  other 
words,  how  imperative  it  is  on  all  overseers  and  jus- 
tices to  obey  the  law  with  alacrity  ;  and  how  weak 
are  those  persons  who  look  to  "grants"  and  "sub- 
scriptions^ to  supply  the  place  of  the  execution  of 
this,  the  most  important  of  all  the  laws  that  consti- 
tute the  basis  of  English  society  !  And  if  this  ques- 
tion be  settled  in  the  affirmative ;  if  we  find  the  most 
learned  of  lawyers  and  most  wise  of  men,  maintain- 
ing the  affirmative  of  this  proposition  ;  if  we  find 
them  maintaining,  that  it  is  neither  felony  nor  larceny 
to  take  food,  in  case  of  extreme  necessity,  though 
without  the  assent,  and  even  against  the  will  of  the 
owner,  what  are  we  to  think  of  those  (and  they  are  not 
few  in  number  nor  weak  in  power)  who,  animated 
with  the  savage  soul  of  the  Scotch  feelosophers, 


10  COBBETT'S  [No, 

would  wholly  abolish  the  poor-laws,  or,  at  least,  ren- 
der them  of  little  effect,  and  thereby  constantly  keep 
thousands  exposed  to  this  dire  necessity  ! 

9.  In  order  to  do  justice  to  this  great  subject;  in 
order  to  treat  it  with  perfect  fairness,  and  in  a  man- 
ner becoming  of  me  and  of  you,  I  must  take  the  au- 
thorities on  both  sides.   There  are  some  great  lawyers 
who  have  contended  that  the  starving  man  is  still 
guilty  of  felony  or  larceny,  if  he  take  food  to  satisfy 
his  hunger ;  but  there  are  a  greater  number  of  other, 
and   still  greater,  lawyers,   who  maintain  the  con- 
trary.    The  general  doctrine  of  those  who  maintain 
the  right  to  take,  is  founded  on  the  law  of  nature ; 
and  it  is  a  saying  as  old  as  the  hills,  a  saying  in  every 
language  in  the  world,  that  "self-preservation  is  the 

first  law  of  nature."  The  law  of  nature  teaches 
every  creature  to  prefer  the  preservation  of  its  own 
life  to  all  other  things.  But,  in  order  to  have  a  fair 
view  of  the  matter  before  us,  we  ought  to  inquire  how 
it  came  to  pass,  that  the  laws  were  ever  made  to  pu- 
nish men  as  criminals,  for  taking  the  victuals,  drink, 
or  clothing,  that  they  might  stand  in  need  of.  We  must 
recollect,  then,  that  there  was  a  time  when  no  such 
laws  existed ;  when  men,  like  the  wild  animals  in 
the  fields,  took  what  they  were  able  to  take,  if  they 
wanted  it.  In  this  state  of  things,  all  the  land  and 
all  the  produce  belonged  to  all  the  people  in  com- 
mon. Thus  were  men  situated,  when  they  lived 
under  what  is  called  the  law  of  nature;  when 
every  one  provided,  as  he  could,  for  his  self-pre- 
servation. 

10.  At  length  this  state  of  things  became  changed  : 
men  entered  into  society ;  they  made  laws  to  restrain 
individuals  from  following,  in  certain  cases,  the  dic- 
tates of  their  own  will ;  they    protected   the    weak 
against  the  strong;  the  laws  secured  men  in  posses- 
sion of  lands,  houses,  and  goods,  that  were  called 
THEIRS  ;  the  words  MINE  and  THINE,  which 
mean  my  own  and  thy  own,  were  invented  to  desig- 
nate what  we  now  call  a  property  in  things.     The 
law  necessarily  made  it  criminal  in  one  man  to  take 


1.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  11 

away,  or  to  injure,  the  property  of  another  man.  It 
was,  you  will  observe,  even  in  this  state  of  nature, 
always  a  crime  to  do  certain  things  against  our  neigh- 
bour. To  kill  him,  to  wound  him,  to  slander  him, 
to  expose  him  to  suffer  from  the  want  of  food  or  rai- 
ment, or  shelter.  These,  and  many  others,  were 
crimes  in  the  eye  of  the  law  of  nature  ;  but,  to  take 
share  of  a  man's  victuals  or  clothing  ;  to  go  and  in- 
sist upon  sharing  a  part  of  any  of  the  good  things 
that  he  happened  to  have  in  his  possession,  could  be 
no  crime,  because  there  was -no  property  in  anything, 
except  in  man's  body  itself.  Now,  civil  society  was 
formed  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole.  The  whole 
gave  up  their  natural  rights,  in  order  that  every  one 
might,  for  the  future,  enjoy  his  life  in  greater  security. 
This  civil  society  was  intended  to  change  the  state  of 
man^br  the  better.  Before  this  state  of  civil  society, 
the  starving,  the  hungry,  the  naked  man,  had  a  right 
to  go  and  provide  himself  with  necessaries  wherever 
he  could  find  them.  There  would  be  sure  to  be 
some  such  necessitous  persons  in  a  state  of  civil  so- 
ciety. Therefore,  when  civil  society  was  established, 
it  is  impossible  to  believe  that  it  had  not  in  view 
some  provision  for  these  destitute  persons.  It  would 
be  monstrous  to  suppose  the  contrary.  The  contrary 
supposition  would  argue,  that  fraud  was  committed 
upon  the  mass  of  the  people  in  forming  this  civil  so- 
ciety ;  for,  as  the  sparks  fly  upwards,  so  will  there  al- 
ways be  destitute  persons  to  some  extent  or  other,  in 
every  community,  and  such  there  are  to  now  a  consider- 
able extent,  even  in  the  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA; 
therefore,  the  formation  of  the  civil  society  must  have 
been  fraudulent  or  tyrannical  upon  any  other  suppo- 
sition than  that  it  made  provision,  in  some  way  or 
other,  for  destitute  persons  ;  that  is  to  say,  for  persons 
unable,  from  some  cause  or  other,  to  provide  for  them- 
selves the  food  and  raiment  sufficient  to  preserve  them 
from  perishing.  Indeed,  a  provision  for  the  destitute 
seems  essential  to  the  lawfulness  of  civil  society ;  and 
this  appears  to  have  been  the  opinion  of  BLACKSTONE, 
when,  in  the  first  Book  and  first  Chapter  of  his  Com- 
15 


12  COBBETT'S  [No. 

mentaries  on  the  Laws  of  England,  he  says,  "  the  law 
not  only  regards  life  and  member,  and  protects  every 
man  in  the  enjoyment  of  them,  but  also  furnishes 
him  with  every  thing  necessary  for  their  support. 
For  there  is  no  man  so  indigent  or  wretched,  but  he 
may  demand  a  supply  sufficient  for  all  the  necessaries 
of  life  from  the  more  opulent  part  of  the  community, 
by  means  of  the  several  statutes  enacted  for  the  re- 
lief of  the  poor;  a  humane  provision  dictated  by  the 
principles  of  society" 

11.  No  man  will  contend,  that  the  main  body  of 
the  people  in  any  country  upon  earth,  and  of  course 
in  England,  would  have  consented  to  abandon  the 
rights  of  nature;  to  give  up  their  right  to  enjoy  all 
things   in  common ;  no  man  will  believe,  that  the 
main  body  of  the  people  would  ever  have  given  their 
assent  to  the  establishing  of  a  state  of  things  which 
should  make  all  the  lands,  and  all  the  trees,  and  all 
the  goods  and  cattle  of  every  sort,  private  property  ; 
which  should  have  shut  out  a  large  part  of  the  peo- 
ple from  having  such  property,  and  which  should,  at 
the  same  time,  not  have  provided  the  means  of  pre- 
venting those  of  them,  who  might  fall  into  indigence, 
from  being  actually  starved  to  death  !  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  believe  this.     Men  never  gave  their  assent  to 
enter    into    society    on  terms  life  these.     One  part 
of  the  condition  upon  which  men  entered  into  society 
was,  that  care  should  be  taken  that  no  human  being 
should  perish  from  want.  When  they  agreed  to  enter  in- 
to that  state  of  things,  which  would  necessarily  cause 
some  men  to  be  rich  and  some  men  to  be  poor ;  when 
they  gave  up  that  right,  which  God  had  given  them, 
to  live  as  well  as  they  could,  and  to  take  the  means 
wherever  they  found  them,  the  condition  clearly  was, 
the  "principle  of  society;"  clearly  was,  as  BLACK- 
STONE  defines  it,  that  the  indigent  and  wretched  should 
have  a  right  to  "  demand  from  the  rich  a  supply  suf- 
ficient for  all  the  necessities  of  life." 

12.  If  the  society  did  not  take  care  to  act  upon 
this  principle ;  if  it  neglected  to  secure  the  legal  means 
of  preserving  the  life  of  the  indigent  and  wretched  ; 


I.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  13 

then  the  society  itself,  in  so  far  as  that  wretched 
person  was  concerned,  ceased  to  have  a  legal  existence. 
It  had,  as  far  as  related  to  him,  forfeited  its  character 
of  legality.  It  had  no  longer  any  claim  to  his  sub- 
mission to  its  laws.  His  rights  of  nature  returned  : 
as  far  as  related  to  him,  the  law  of  nature  revived  in 
all  its  force  :  that  state  of  things  in  which  all  men  en- 
joyed all  things  in  common  was  revived  with  regard 
to  him ;  and  he  took,  and  he  had  a  right  to  take,  food 
and  raiment,  or,  as  Blackstone  expresses  it,  "  a  supply 
sufficient  for  all  the  necessities  of  life."  For,  if  it  be 
true,  as  laid  down  by  this  English  lawyer,  that  the 
principles  of  society  ;  if  it  be  true,  that  the  very  prin- 
ciples, or  foundations  of  society  dictate,  that  the  des- 
titute person  shall  have  a  legal  demand  for  a  supply 
from  the  rich,  sufficient  for  all  the  necessities  of  life ;  if 
this  be  true,  and  true  it  certainly  is,  it  follows  of  course 
that  the  principles,  that  is,  the  base,  or  foundation^  of 
society,  is  subverted,  is  gone ;  and  that  society  is,  in 
fact,  no  longer  what  it  was  intended  to  be,  when  the 
indigent,  when  the  person  in  a  state  of  extreme  neces- 
sity, cannot,  at  once,  obtain  from  the  rich  such  suffi 
cient  supply  :  in  short,  we  need  go  no  further  than 
this  passage  of  BLACKSTONE,  to  show,  that  civil  society 
is  subverted,  and  that  there  is,  in  fact,  nothing  legiti- 
mate in  it,  when  the  destitute  and  wretched  have  no 
certain  and  legal  resource. 

13.  But  this  is  so  important  a  matter,  and  there 
have  been  such  monstrous  doctrines  and  projects  put 
forth  by  MALTHUS,  by  the  EDINBURGH  REVIEWERS,  by 
LAWYER  SCARLETT,  by  LAWYER  NOLAN,  by  STURGES 
BOURNE,  and  by  an  innumerable  swarm  of  persons  who 
have  been  giving  before  the  House  of  Commons  what 
they  call  "evidence:"  there  have  been  such  monstrous 
doctrines  and  projects  put  forward  by  these  and  other 
persons ;  and  there  seems  to  be  such  a  lurking  desire 
to  carry  the  hostility  to  the  working  classes  still  further, 
that  I  think  it  necessary  in  order  to  show,  that  these 
English  poor-laws,  which  have  been  so  much  calum- 
niated by  so  many  greedy  proprietors  of  land ;  I  think 
it  necessary  to  show,  that  these  poor-laws  are  the 


14  COBBETT'S  [No. 

things  which  men  of  property,  above  all  others,  ought 
to  wish  to  see  maintained,  seeing  that,  according  to 
the  opinions  of  the  greatest  and  the  wisest  of  men, 
they  must  suffer  most  in  consequence  of  the  abolition, 
of  those  laws  ;  because,  by  the  abolition  of  those  laws, 
the  right  given  by  the  laws  of  nature  would  revive, 
and  the  destitute  would  take,  where  they  now  simply 
demand  (as  BLACKSTONE  expresses  it)  in  the  name  of 
the  law.  There  has  been  some  difference  of  opinion, 
as  to  the  question,  whether  it  be  theft  or  no  theft ;  or, 
rather,  whether  it  be  a  criminal  act,  or  not  a  criminal 
act,  for  a  person,  in  a  case  of  extreme  necessity  from 
want  of  food,  to  take  food  without  the  assent  and  even 
against  the  will,  of  the  owner.  We  have,  amongst 
our  great  lawyers,  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE  and  SIR  WIL- 
LIAM BLACKSTONE,  who  contend  (though  as  we  shall 
see,  with  much  feebleness,  hesitation,  and  reservation, ) 
that  it  is  theft,  not withstan ding  the  extremity  of  the 
want;  but  there  are  many,  and  much  higher  authorities, 
foreign  as  well  as  English,  on  the  other  side.  Before, 
however,  I  proceed  to  the  hearing  of  these  authorities, 
let  me  take  a  snort  view  of  the  origin  of  the  poor  laws 
in  England;  for  that  view  will  convince  us,  that, 
though  the  present  law  was  passed  but  a  little  more 
than  two  hundred  years  ago,  there  had  been  something 
to  effect  the  same  purpose  ever  since  England  had  been 
called  England. 

14.  According  to  the  Common  Law  of  England, 
as  recorded  in  the  MIRRODR  OF  JUSTICES,  a  book  which 
was  written  before  the  Norman  Conquest ;  a  book  in 
as  high  reputation,  as  a  law-book,  as  any  one  in  Eng- 
land; according  to  this  book,  CHAPTER  1st,  SECTION 
3d,  which  treats  of  the  "First  constitutions  made  by 
the  antient  kings ; "  according  to  this  work,  provision 
was  made  for  the  sustenance  of  the  poor.  The  words 
are  these  :  "  It  was  ordained,  that  the  poor  should  be 
sustained  by  parsons,  by  rectors  of  the  church,  and 
by  the  parishioners,  so  that  hone  of  them  die  for  want 
of  sustenance"  Several  hundred  years  later,  the  ca- 
nons of  the  church  show,  that  when  the  church  had 
become  rich,  it  took  upon  itself  the  whole  of  the  care 


I.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  15 

and  expense  attending  the  relieving  of  the  poor. 
These  canons,  in  setting  forth  the  manner  in  which 
the  tithes  should  be  disposed  of,  say,  "  Let  the  priests 
set  apart  the  first  share  for  the  building  and  ornaments 
of  the  church;  let  them  distribute  the  second  to  the 
poor  and  strangers,  with  their  own  hands,  in  mercy 
and  humility'  and  let  them  reserve  the  third  part  for 
themselves."  This  passage  is  taken  from  the  canons 
of  ELFRIC,  canon  24th.  At  a  later  period,  when  the 
tithes  had,  in  some  places,  been  appropriated  to  con- 
vents, acts  of  Parliament  were  passed,  compelling  the 
impropriators  to  leave,  in  the  hands  of  their  vicar,  a 
sufficiency  for  the  maintenance  of  the  poor.  There 
were  two  or  three  acts  of  this  sort  passed,  one  par- 
ticularly in  the  twelfth  year  of  RICHARD  the  Second, 
chapter  7th.  So  that  here  we  have  the  most  ancient 
book  on  the  Common  Law ;  we  have  the  candns  of 
the  church  at  a  later  period;  we  have  acts  of  Parlia- 
ment at  a  time  when  the  power  and  glory  of  England 
were  at  their  very  highest  point ;  we  have  all  these  to 
tell  us,  that  in  England,  from  the  very  time  that  the 
country  took  the  name,  there  was  always  a  legal  and 
secure  provision  for  the  poor,  so  that  no  person,  how- 
ever aged,  infirm,  unfortunate,  or  destitute,  should 
suffer  from  want. 

15.  But,  my  friends,  a  time  cam'e  when  the  provi- 
sion made  by  the  Common  Law,  by  the  Canons  of  the 
Church,  and  by  the  Acts  of  the  Parliament  coming  in 
aid  of  those  canons ;  a  time  arrived,  when  all  these 
were  rendered  null  by  what  is  called  the  PROTESTANT 
REFORMATION.  This  "  Reformation,"  as  it  is  called, 
sweeped  away  the  convents,  gave  a  large  part  of  the 
tithes  to  greedy  courtiers,  put  parsons  with  wives  and 
children  into  the  livings,  and  left  the  poor  without 
any  resource  whatsoever.  This  terrible  event,  which 
deprived  England  of  the  last  of  her  possessions  on 
the  continent  of  Europe,  reduced  the  people  of  Eng- 
land to  the  most  horrible  misery ;  from  the  happiest 
and  best  fed  and  best  clad  people  in  the  world,  it 
made  them  the  most  miserable,  the  most  wretched 
and  ragged  of  creatures.  At  last  it  was  seen  that. 
15* 


16  COBBETT'S  [No. 

in  spite  of  the  most  horrible  tyranny  that  ever  was 
exercised  in  the  world,  in  spite  of  the  racks  and  the 
gibbets  and  the  martial  law  of  QUEEN  ELIZABETH, 
those  who  had  amassed  to  themselves  the  property 
out.  of  which  the  poor  had  been  formerly  fed,  were 
compelled  to  pass  a  law  to  raise  money,  by  way  of 
tax,  for  relieving"  the  necessities  of  the  poor.  They 
had  passed  many  acts  before  the  FORTY-THIRD  year  of 
the  reign  of  this  Queen  Elizabeth  ;  but  these  acts 
were  all  found  to  be  ineffectual,  till,  at  last,  in  the 
forty-third  year  of  the  reign  of  this  tyrannical  Queen, 
and  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1601,  that  famous  act 
was  passed,  which  has  been  in  force  until  this  day ; 
and  which,  as  I  said  before,  is  stilLin  force,  notwith- 
standing all  the  various  attempts  of  folly  and  cruelty 
to  get  rid  of  it. 

16.  Thus,  then,  the  present  poor-laws  are  no  new 
thing1.     They  are  no  gift  to  the  working  people. 
You  hear  the  greedy  landowners  everlastingly  com- 
plaining   against    this    law  of  QUEEN  ELIZABETH. 
They  pretend  that  it  was  an  unfortunate  law.  They 
affect  to  regard  it  as  a  great  INNOVATION,  seeing 
that  no  such  law  existed  before;  but,  as  I  have  shown, 
a  better  law  existed  before,  having  the  same  object 
in  view.     I  have  shown,  that  the  "  Reformation,"  as 
it  is  called,  had  sweeped  away  that  which  had  been 
secured  to  the  poor  by  the  Common  Law,  by  the  Ca- 
nons of  the  Church,  and  by  ancient  Acts  of  Parlia- 
ment.    There  was  nothing  new,  then,  in  the  w*y  of 
benevolence  towards  the  people,  in  this  celebrated 
Act  of  Parliament  of  the  reign  of  QUEEN  ELIZABETH  ; 
and  the  landowners  would  act  wisely    by  holding 
their  tongues  upon  the  subject;  or,  if  they  be  too 
noisy,  one   may  look  into  their  GRANTS,  and  see 
if  we  cannot  find  something  THERE  to  keep  out 
the  present  parochial  assessments. 

17.  Having  now  seen  the  origin  of  the  present 
poor-laws,  and  the  justice  of  their  due  execution,  let 
us  return  to  those  authorities  of  which  I  was  speak- 
ing but  now,  and  an  examination  into  which  will 
*how  the  extreme  danger  of  listening  to  those  pro- 


I.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  17 

jectors  who  would  abolish  the  poor-laws ;  that  is  to 
say,  who  would  sweep  away  that  provision  which 
was  established  in  the  reign  of  Q,UEEN  ELIZABETH, 
from  a  conviction  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
preserve  the  peace  of  the  country  and  the  lives  of 
the  people.  I  observed  before  that  there  has  been 
some  difference  of  opinion  amongst  lawyers  as  to  the 
question,  whether  it  be,  or  be  not,  theft,  to  take  with- 
out his  consent  and  against  his  will,  the  victuals  of 
another,  in  order  to  prevent  the  taker  from  starving. 
SIR  MATTHEW  HALE  and  SIR  WILLIAM  BLACKSTONE 
say  that  it  is  theft.  I  am  now  going  to  quote  the 
several  authorities  on  both  sides,  and  it  will  be  ne- 
cessary for  me  to  indicate  the  works  which  I  quote 
from  by  the  words,  letters,  and  figures  which  are 
usually  made  use  of  in  quoting  from  these  works. 
Some  part  of  what  I  shall  quote  will  be  in  Latin: 
but  I  shall  put  nothing  in  that  language  of  which  I 
will  not  give  you  the  translation.  I  beg  you  to  read 
these  quotations  with  the  greatest  attention ;  for  you 
will  find,  at  the  end  of  your  reading,  that  you  have 
obtained  great  knowledge  upon  the  subject,  and 
knowledge,  too,  which  will  not  soon  depart  from 
your  minds. 

18.  I  begin  with  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE,  (a  Chief 
Justice  of  the  Court  of  King's  Bench  in  the  reign 
of  Charles  the  Second,)  who,  in  his  PLEAS  OF  THE 
CROWN,  CHAP.  IX.,  has  the  following  passage,  which 
I  put  in  distinct  paragraphs,  and  mark  A,  B,  and  C. 

19.  A.  "  Some  of  the  casuists,  and  particularly 
COVARRUVIUS,  Tom.  I.     De  furti  et  rapince.  restitu- 
tione,  §  3,  4,  p.  473 ;  and  GROTIUS,  de  jure  belli  ac 
pads;  lib.  II.   cap.  2.  §  6,  tell  us,  that  in  case  of 
extreme  necessity,  either  of  hunger  or  clothing,  the 
civil  distributions  of  property  cease,  and  by  a  kind  of 
tacit  condition  the  first  community  doth  return,  and 
upon  this  those  common  assertions  are  grounded: 
1  Quicquid  necessitas  cogit,  defendii,,'     [Whatever 
necessity  calls  for,  it  justifies.]     '  Necessitas  est  lex 
temporis  et  loci?     [Necessity  is  the  law  of  time  and 
place.!     '  In  casu  extremes,  necessitatis  omnia  sunt 


18  COBEETT'S  [No. 

communiaS  [In  case  of  extreme  necessity,  all  things 
are  in  common;']  and,  therefore,  in  such  case  theft  is 
no  theft,  or  at  least  not  punishable  as  theft;  and  some 
even  of  our  own  lawyers  have  asserted  the  same ; 
and  very  bad  use  hath  been  made  of  this  concession 
by  some  of  the  Jesuitical  casuists  of  France,  who 
have  thereupon  advised  apprentices  and  servants  to 
rob  their  masters,  where  they  have  been  indeed  them- 
selves in  want  of  necessaries,  of  clothes  or  victuals ; 
whereof,  they  tell  them,  they  themselves  are  the  com- 
petent judges ;  and  by  this  means  let  loose,  as  much 
as  they  can,  by  their  doctrine  of  probability,  all  the 
ligaments  of  property  and  civil  society." 

20.  B.  "  I  do,  therefore,  take  it,  that,  where  per- 
sons live  under  the  same  civil  government,  as  here 
in  England,  that  rule,  at  least  by  the  laws  of  Eng- 
land, is  false ;  and,  therefore,  if  a  person  being  under 
necessity  for  want  of  victuals,  or  clothes,  shall,  upon 
that  account,  clandestinely,  and  ' animo  furandij 
[with  intent  to  steal,]  steal  another  man's  goods, 
it  is  felony,  and  a  crime,  by  the  laws  of  England, 
punishable  with  death;  although,  the  judge  before 
whom  the  trial  is,  in  this  case  (as  in  other  cases  of 
extremity)  be  by  the  laws  of  England  intrusted 
with  a  power  to  reprieve  the  offender,  before  or  after 
judgment,  in  order  to  the  obtaining  the  King's  mercy. 
For,  1st,  Men's  properties  would  be  under  a  strange 
insecurity,  being  laid  open  to  other  men's  necessi- 
ties, whereof  no  man  can  possibly  judge,  but  the 
party  himself.  And,  2nd,  Because  by  the  laws  of 
this  kingdom  [here  he  refers  to  the  43  Eliz.  cap.  2] 
sufficient  provision  is  made  for  the  supply  of  such 
necessities  by  collections  for  the  poor,  and  by  the 
power  of  the  civil  magistrate.  Consonant  hereunto 
seems  to  be  the  law  even  among  the  Jews ;  if  we 
may  believe  the  wisest  of  kings.  Proverbs  vi.  30,  31. 
'Men  do  not  despise  a  thief,  if  he  steal  to  satisfy  his 
soul  when  he  is  hungry,  but  if  he  be  found,  he  shall 
restore  seven-fold,  he  shall  give  all  the  substance  of 
his  house?  It  is  true,  death  among  them  was  not 
the  penalty  of  theft,  yet  his  necessity  gave  him  wo 


JFU 


I.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  19 

exception  from  the  ordinary  punishment  inflicted  by 
their  law  upon  that  offence." 

21.  C.  "Indeed  this  rule,  c  in  casu extremes  neces- 
sitatis  omnia  sunt  communiaj  does  hold,  in  some 
measure^  in  some  particular  cases,  where,  by  the  tacit 
consent  of  nations,  or  of  some  particular  countries  or 
societies,  it  hath  obtained.     First,  among  the  Jews, 
it  was  lawful  in  case  of  hunger  to  pull  ears  of  stand- 
ing corn,  and  eat,  (Matt.  xii.  1;)  and  for  one  to  pass 
through  a  vineyard,  or  olive-yard,  to  gather  and  eat 
without  carrying  away.  Deut.  xxiii.  24,  25.  SECOND, 
By  the  Rhodian  law,  and  the  common-maritime 
custom,  if  the  common  provision  for  the  ship's  com- 
pany fail,  the  master  may,  under  certain  tempera- 
ments, break  open  the  private  chests  of  the  mariners 
or  passengers,  and  make  a  distribution  of  that  par- 
ticular and  private  provision  for  the  preservation  of 
the  ship's  company."     Vide  CONSOLATO  DEL  MARE, 
cap.  256.     LE  CUSTOMES  DE  LA  MERE,  p.  77. 

22.  SIR  WILLIAM  BLACKSTONE  agrees,  in  substance, 
with  HALE  ;  but  he  is,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  much 
more  eager  to  establish  his  doctrine ;  and,  we  shall 
see  besides,  that  he  has  not  scrupled  to  be  guilty  of 
misquoting,  and  of  very  shamefully  garbling,  the 
Scripture,  in  order  to  establish  his  point.     We  shall 
find  him  flatly  contradicting  the  laws  of  England ; 
but,  he   might  have   spared    the   Holy  Scriptures, 
which,  however,  he  has  not  done. 

23.  To  return  to  HALE,  you  see  he  is  compelled  to 
begin    with   acknowledging    that  there    are    great 
authorities  against  him;  and  he  could  not  say  that 
GROTIUS  was  not  one  of  the  most  virtuous  as  well 
as  one  of  the  most  learned  of  mankind.    HALE  does 
pot  know  very  well  what  to  do  with  those  old  say- 
ings about  the  justification  which  hard    necessity 
gives :  he  does  not  know  what  to  do  with  the  maxim, 
that,  "in  case  of  extreme  necessity  all  things  are 
owned  in  common."   He  is  exceedingly  puzzled  with 
these  ancient  authorities,  and  flies  off  into  prattle 
rather  than  argument,  and  tells  us  a  story  about  "Jesu- 
itical "  casuists  in  France,  who  advised  apprentices 


20  COBBETT'S  [No. 

and  servants  to  rob  their  masters,  and  that  they  thus 
"let  loose  the  ligaments  of  property  and  civil  society." 
I  fancy  that  it  would  require  a  pretty  large  portion  of 
that  sort  of  faith  which  induced  this  Protestant  judge 
to  send  witches  and  wizards  to  the  gallows  ;  a  pretty 
large  portion  of  this  sort  of  faith,  to  make  us  believe, 
that  the  "casuists  of  France,"  who,  doubtless,  had 
servants  of  their  own,  would  teach  servants  to  rob 
their  masters !  In  short,  this  prattle  of  the  judge 
seems  to  have  been  nothing  more  than  one  of  those 
Protestant  effusions  which  were  too  much  in  fashion 
at  the  time  when  he  wrote. 

24.  He  begins  his  second  paragraph,  or  paragraph 
B.,  by   saying,  that  he  "  takes  it "  to  be  so  and  so  ; 
and  then  comes  another  qualified  expression  ;  he  talks 
of  civil  government  " as  here  in  England"     Then 
he  says,  that  the  rule  of  GROTIUS  and  others,  against 
which  he  has  been  contending,  uhe  takes  to  be  false, 
at  least,"  says  he,  "  by  the  laws  of  England."  After 
he  has  made  all  these  qualifications,  he  then  pro- 
ceeds to  say*  that  such  taking  is  theft;  that  it  \$  felony; 
and  it  is  a  crime  which  the  laws  of  England  punish 
with  death!     But,  as  if  stricken  with  remorse  at 
putting  the  frightful  words  upon  paper ;  as  if  feeling 
shame  for  the  law  and  for  England  itself,  he  in- 
stantly begins  to  tell  us,  that  the  judge  who  presides 
at  the  trial  is  intrusted,  "  by  the  laws  of  England," 
with  power  to  reprieve  the  offender,  in  order  to  the 
obtaining  of  the   King^s  mercy  I     Thus  he  softens  - 
it  down.     He  will  have  it  to  be  LAW  to  put  a  man 
to  death  in  such  a  case ;  but  he  is  ashamed  to  leave 
his  readers  to  believe,  that  an  English  judge  and  an 
English  king  WOULD  OBEY  THIS  LAW  ! 

25.  Let  us  now  hear  the  reasons  which  he  gives 
for  this  which  he  pretends  to  be  law.     His  first  rea- 
son is,  that  there  would  be  no  security  for  property, 
if  it  were  laid  open  to  the  necessities  of  the  indigent, 
of  which  necessities  no  man  but  the  takers  them" 
selves  could  be  the  judge.     He  talks  of  a  "  strange 
insecurity ;"  but,  upon  my  word,  no  insecurity  could 
be  half  so  strange  as  this   assertion   of  his   own. 


I."]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  21 

BLACKSTONE  has  just  the  same  argument.  "  Nobody,3' 
says  he,  "would  be  a  judge  of  the  wants  of  the  taker, 
but  the  taker  himself;"  and  BLACKSTONE,  copying  the 
very  words  of  HALE,  talks  of  the  "strange  insecurity" 
arising  from  this  cause.  Now,  then,  suppose  a  man 
to  come  into  my  house,  and  to  take  away  a  bit  of 
bacon.  Suppose  me  to  pursue  him  and  seize  hinu 
He  would  tell  me  that  he  was  starving  for  want  of 
food.  I  hope  that  the  bare  statement  would  induce 
me,  or  any  man  in  the  world  that  I  do  call  or  ever 
have  called  my  friend,  to  let  him  go  without  further 
inquiry ;  but,  if  I  chose  to  push  the  matter  further, 
there  would  be  the  magistrate.  If  he  chose  to  com- 
mit the  man,  would  there  not  be  &jury  and  a  judge 
to  receive  evidence  and  to  ascertain  whether  the  ex- 
treme necessity  existed  or  not  ? 
,  26.  Aye,  says  Judge  HALE  ;  but  I  have  another  reason, 
a  devilish  deal  better  than  this,  "  and  that  is,  the  act 
of  the  43d  year  of  the  reign  of  Q,UEEN  ELIZABETH  !" 
Aye,  my  old  boy,  that  is  a  thumping  reason  !  "Suffi- 
cient provision  is  made  for  the  supply  of  such  neces- 
sities by  collections  for  the  poor,  and  by  the  power  of 
the  civil  magistrate.'1''  Aye,  aye  !  that  is  the  reason  ; 
and,  Mr.  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE,  there  is  no  other  reason, 
say  what  you  will  about  the  matter.  There  stand  the 
overseer  and  the  civil  magistrate  to  take  care  that 
such  necessities  be  provided  for;  and  if  they  did  not 
stand  there  for  that  purpose,  the  law  of  nature  would 
be  revived  in  behalf  of  the  suffering  creature. 

27.  HALE,  not  content  however  with  this  act  of 
QUEEN  ELIZABETH,  and  still  hankering  after  this  hard 
doctrine,  furbishes  up  a  bit  of  Scripture,  and  calls 
Solomon  the  wisest  of  kings  on  account  of  these  two 
verses  which  he  has  taken.  HALE  observes,  indeed, 
that  the  Jews  did  not  put  thieves  to  death;  but,  to 
restore  seven-fold  was  the  ordinary  punishment,  in- 
flicted by  their  law,  for  theft;  and  here,  says  he,  we 
see,  that  the  extreme  necessity  gave  no  exemption. 
This  was  a  piece  of  such  flagrant  sophistry  on  the 
part  of  HALE,  that  he  could  not  find  in  his  heart  to 
send  it  forth  to  the  world  without  a  qualifying  obser- 


22  COBBETT'S  [No. 

vation;  but  even  this  qualifying  observation  left  the 
sophistry  still  so  shameful,  that  his  editor,  Mr.  EMLYN, 
who  published  the  work  under  authority  of  the  House 
of  Commons,  did  not  think  it  consistent  with  his  re- 
putation to  suffer  this  passage  to  go  forth  unaccom- 
panied with  the  following  remark:  "But  their  (the 
Jews')  ordinary  punishment  being  entirely  pecuniary, 
could  affect  him  only  when  he  was  found  in  a  condi- 
tion to  answer  it;  and  therefore  the  same  reasons 
which  could  justify  that,  can,  by  no  means,  be  ex- 
tended to  a  corporal,  much  less  to  a  capital  punish- 
ment." Certainly :  and  this  is  the  fair  interpretation 
of  these  two  verses  of  the  Proverbs.  PDFFENDORF, 
one  of  the  greatest  authorities  that  the  world  knows 
anything  of,  observes,  upon  the  argument  built  upon 
this  text  of  Scripture,  "  It  may  be  objected,  that,  in 
Proverbs,  chap.  vi.  verses  30,  31,  he  is  called  a  thief, 
and  pronounced  obnoxious  to  the  penalty  of  theft, 
who  steals  to  satisfy  his  hunger ;  but  whoever  closely 
views  and  considers  that  text  will  find  that  the  thief 
there  censured  is  neither  in  such  extreme  necessity 
as  we  are  now  supposing,  nor  seems  to  have  fallen 
into  his  needy  condition  merely  by  ill  fortune,  with- 
out his  own  idleness  or  default:  for  the  context  im- 
plies, that  he  had  a  house  and  goods  sufficient  to 
make  seven-fold  restitution;  which  he  might  have 
either  sold  or  pawned ;  a  chapman  or  creditor  being 
easily  to  be  met  with  in  times  of  plenty  and  peace ; 
for  we  have  no  grounds  to  think  that  the  fact  there 
mentioned  is  supposed  to  be  committed,  either  in  time 
of  war,  or  upon  account  of  the  extraordinary  price  of 
provisions." 

28.  Besides  this,  I  think  it  is  clear  that  these  two 
verses  of  the  Proverbs  do  not  apply  to  one  and  the 
same  person;  for  in  the  first  verse  it  is  said,  that  men 
do  not  despise  a  thief  if  he  steal  to  satisfy  his  soul 
when  he  is  hungry.  How,  then,  are  we  to  reconcile 
this  with  morality  ?  Are  we  not  to  despise  a  thief? 
It  is  clear  that  the  word  thief  does  not  apply  to  the 
first  case ;  but  to  the  second  case  only ;  and  that  the 
distinction  was  here  made  for  the  express  purpose  of 


I.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  23 

preventing  the  man  who  took  food  to  relieve  his 
hunger  from  being  confounded  with  the  thief.  Upon 
any  other  interpretation,  it  makes  the  passage  contain 
nonsense  and  immorality ;  and,  indeed,  GROTIUS  says 
that  the  latter  text  does  not  apply  to  the  person  men- 
tioned in  the  former.  The  latter  text  could  not  mean 
a  man  taking  food  from  necessity.  It  is  impossible 
that  it  can  mean  that;  because  the  man  who  was 
starving  for  want  of  food  could  not  have  seven-fold ; 
could  not  have  any  substance  in  his  house.  But  what 
are  we  to  think  of  JUDGE  BLACKSTONE,  who,  in  his 
Book  IV.,  chap.  2,  really  garbles  these  texts  of  Scrip- 
ture. He  clearly  saw  the  effect  of  the  expression, 
"MEN  DO  NOT  DESPISE;"  he  saw  what  an 
awkward  figure  these  words  made,  coming  before  the 
words  "A  THIEF  ;"  he  saw  that,  with  these  words 
in  the  text,  he  could  never  succeed  in  making  his 
readers  believe  that  a  man  ought  to  be  hanged  for 
taking  food  to  save  his  life.  He  clearly  saw  that  he 
could  not  make  men  believe  that  God  had  said  this, 
unless  he  could,  somehow  or  other,  get  rid  of  those 
words  about  NOT  DESPISING  the  thief  that  took 
victuals  when  he  was  hungry.  Being,  therefore,  very 
much  pestered  and  annoyed  by  these  words  about 
NOT  DESPISING,  what  does  he  do  but  fairly  leave 
them  out !  And  not  only  leave  them  out,  but  leave 
out  a  part  of  both  the  verses,  keeping  in  that  part  of 
each  that  suited  him,  and  no  more ;  nay,  further, 
leaving  out  one  word,  and  putting  in  another,  giving 
a  sense  to  the  whole  which  he  knew  well  never  was 
intended.  He  states  the  passage  to  be  this :  "  If  a 
thief  steal  to  satisfy  his  soul  when  he  is  hungry,  he 
shall  restore  seven-fold,  and  shall  give  all  the  sub- 
stance of  his  house."  No  broomstick  that  ever  was 
handled  would  have  been  too  heavy  or  too  rough  for 
the  shoulders  of  this  dirty-souled  man.  HALE,  with 
all  his  desire  to  make  out  a  case  in  favour  of  severity, 
has  given  us  the  words  fairly  :  but  this  shuffling  fel- 
low ;  this  smooth-spoken  and  mean  wretch,  who  is 
himself  thief  enough,  God  knows,  if  stealing  other 
men's  thoughts  and  words  constitute  theft  5  this  in- 


24  COEBETT'S  [No. 

tolerably  mean  reptile  has,  in  the  first  place,  left  out 
the  words  "  men  do  not  despise : "  then  he  has  left 
out  the  words  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  text,  "but 
if  he  be  found"  Then  in  place  of  the  "  he,"  which 
comes  before  the  words  "shall  give"  he  puts  the  word 
"and;"  and  thus  he  makes  the  whole  apply  to  the 
poor  creature  that  takes  to  satisfy  his  soul  when  he  is 
hungry  I  He  leaves  out  every  mitigating  word  of  the 
Scripture ;  and,  in  his  reference,  he  represents  the 
passage  to  be  in  one  verse  1  Perhaps,  even  in  the 
history  of  the  conduct  of  crown-lawyers,  there  is  not 
to  be  found  mention  of  an  act  so  coolly  bloody-minded 
as  this.  It  has  often  been  said  of  this  BLACKSTONE, 
that  he  not  only  lied  himself,  but  made  others  lie; 
he  has  here  made,  as  far  as  he  was  able,  a  liar  of 
King  Solomon  himself:  he  has  wilfully  garbled  the 
Holy  Scripture ;  and  that,  too,  for  the  manifest  pur- 
pose of  justifying  cruelty  in  courts  and  judges ;  for 
the  manifest  purpose  of  justifying  the  most  savage 
oppression  of  the  poor. 

29.  After  all,  HALE  has  not  the  courage,,  to  send 
'  forth  this  doctrine  of  his,  without  allowing  that  the 
case  of  extreme  necessity  does,  "  in  some  measure," 
and  "  in  particular  cases"  and,  "by  the  tacit  or  silent 
consent  of  nations,"  hold  good  !  What  a  crowd  of 
qualifications  is  here !  With  what  reluctance  he  con- 
fesses that  which  all  the  world  knows  to  be  true,  that 
the  disciples  of  JESUS  CHRIST  pulled  off,  without  leave, 
the  ears  of  standing  corn,  and  ate  them  "being"  an 
hungered"  And  here  are  two  things  to  observe  upon. 
In  the  first  place  this  corn  was  not  what  we  call  corn 
here  in  England,  or  else  it  would  have  been  very 
droll  sort  of  stuff  to  crop  off  and  eat.  It  was  what 
the  Americans  call  Indian  corn,  what  the  French 
call  Turkish  corn,  and  what  is  called  corn  (as  being 
far  surpassing  all  other  in  excellence)  in  the  Eastern 
countries  where  the  Scriptures  were  written.  About 
four  or  five  ears  of  this  corn,  of  which  you  strip  all 
the  husk  off  in  a  minute,  are  enough  for  a  man's 
breakfast  or  dinner;  and  by  about  the  middle  of 
August  this  corn  is  just  as  wholesome  and  as  effici- 


I.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  25 

ent  as  bread.  So  that,  this  was  something  to  take 
and  eat  without  the  owner's  leave ;  it  was  something 
of  value ;  and  observe,  that  the  Pharisees,  though  so 
strongly  disposed  to  find  fault  with  everything  that 
was  done  by  Jesus  Christ  and  his  disciples,  did  not 
find  fault  ot  their  taking  the  corn  to  eat;  did  not  call 
them  thieves;  did  not  propose  to  punish  them  for 
theft ;  but  found  fault  of  them  only  for  having  plucked 
the  corn  on  the  Sabbath-day!  To  pluck  the  corn 
was  to  do  work,  and  these  severe  critics  found  fault  of 
this  working  on  the  Sabbath-day.  Then,  out  comes 
another  fact,  which  HALE  might  have  noticed  if  he 
had  chosen  it;  namely,  that  our  Saviour  reminds  the 
Pharisees  that  "  DAVID  and  his  companions,  being  an 
hungered,  entered  into  the  House  of  God,  and  did  eat 
the  show-bread,  to  eat  which  was  unlawful  in  any- 
body but  the  priests."  Thus,  that  which  would  have 
been  sacrilege  under  any  other  circumstances ;  that 
which  would  have  been  one  of  the  most  horrible  of 
crimes  against,  the  law  of  God,  became  no  crime  at 
all  when  committed  by  a  person  pressed  by  hunger. 
30.  Nor  has  JUDGE  HALE  fairly  interpreted  the  two 
verses  of  DEUTERONOMY.  He  represents  the  matter 
thus :  that,  if  you  be  passing  through  a  vineyard  or  an 
olive-yard  you  may  gather  and  eat, without  being  deem- 
ed a  thief.  This  interpretation  would  make  an  English- 
man believe  that  ihe  Scripture  allowed  of  this  taking 
and  eating,  only  where  there  was  a  lawful  foot-way 
through  the  vineyard.  This  is  a  very  gross  misrepre- 
sentation of  the  matter  ;  for  if  you  look  at  the  two 
texts,  you  will  find,  that  they  say  that,  "  when  thou 
contest  into;"  that  is  to  say,  when  thou  enter est  or 
goest  into,  "thy  neighbour's  vineyard,  then  thou 
mayest  eat  grapes  thy  fill  at  thine  own  pleasure,  but 
thou  shalt  not  put  any  in  thy  vessel ;"  that  is  to  say, 
that  you  should  not  go  and  make  wine  in  his  vine- 
yard and  carry  it  away.  Then  in  case  of  the  corn, 
precisely  the  same  law  is  laid  down.  You  may 
pluck  with  your  hand;  but  not  use  the  hook  or  a 
sickle.  Nothing  can  be  plainer  than  this :  no  distinc- 
tion can,  be  wiser,  nor  more  just.  HALE  saw  the  force 


26  COBBETT'S  [No. 

of  it ;  and  therefore,  as  these  texts  made  very  strong- 
ly against  him,  he  does  not  give  them  at  full  length, 
but  gives  us  a  misrepresenting  abbreviation. 

31.  He  had,  however,  too  much  regard  for  his  re- 
putation to  conclude  without  acknowledging  the  right 
of  seizing  on  the  provisions  of  others  at  sea.     He 
allows  that  private  chests  may  be  broken  open  to  pre- 
vent men  from  dying  with  hunger  at  sea.     He  does 
not  stop  to  tell  us  why  men's  lives  are  more  precious 
on  sea  than  on  land.     He  does  not  attempt  to  recon- 
cile these  liberties  given  by  the  Scripture,  and  by  the 
maritime  laws,  with  his  .own  hard  doctrine.  In  short, 
he  brings  us  to  this  at  last :  that  he  will  not  acknow- 
ledge, that  it  is  not  theft  to  take  another  man's  goods, 
without  his  consent,  under  any  circumstances ;  but, 
while  he  will  not  acknowledge  this,  he  plainly  leaves 
us  to  conclude,  that  no  English  judge  and  no  Eng- 
lish king  will  ever  punish  a  poor  creature  that  takes 
victuals   to  save  himself  from  perishing;    and   he 
plainly  leaves  us  to  conclude,  that  it  is  the  poor-laws 
of  England ;  that  it  is  their  existence  and  their  due 
execution,  which  deprive  everybody  in  England  of 
the  right  to  take  food  and  raiment  in  case  of  extreme 
necessity. 

32.  Here  I  agree  with  him  most  cordially  ;  and  it 
is  because  I  agree  with  him  in  this,  that  I  deprecate 
the  abominable  projects  of  those  who  would  annihi- 
late the  poor-laws,  seeing  that  it  is  those  very  poor- 
laws  which  give,  under  all  circumstances,  really  legal 
security  to  property.    Without  them,  cases  must  fre- 
quently arise,  which  would,  according  to  the  law  of 
nature,  according  to  the  law  of  God,  and  as  we  shall 
see  before  we  have  done,  according  to  the  law  of 
England,  bring  us  into  a  state,  or,  at  least,  bring  par- 
ticular persons  into  a  state,  which  as  far  as  related  to 
them,  would  cause  the  law  of  nature  to  revive,  and 
to  make  all  thing's  to  be  owned  in  common.     To  ad- 
here, then,  to  these  poor-laws  ;  to  cause  them  to  be  duly 
executed,  to  prevent  every  encroachment  upon  them,  to 
preserve  them  as  the  apple  of  our  eye,  are  the  duty  of 
every  Englishman,  as  far  as  he  has  capacity  so  to  do. 


II.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  27 

33.  I  have,  my  friends,  cited,  as  yet,  authorities  only 
on  one  side  of  this  great  subject,  which  it  was  my 
wish  to  discuss  in  this  one  Number.  I  find  that  to  be 
impossible  without  leaving  undone  much  more  than 
half  my  work.  I  am  extremely  anxious  to  cause  this 
matte/  to  be  well  understood,  not  only  by  the  work- 
ing classes,  but  by  the  owners  of  the  land  and  the 
magistrates.  I  deem  it  to  be  of  the  greatest  possible 
importance;  and,  while  writing  on  it,  I  address  my- 
self to  you,  because  I  most  sincerely  declare  that  I 
have  a  greater  respect  for  you  than  for  any  other 
body  of  persons  that  I  know  any  thing  of.  Tne  next 
Number  will  conclude  the  discussion  of  the  subject. 
The  whole  will  lie  in  a  very  small  compass.  Six- 
pence only  will  be  the  cost  of  it.  It  will  creep  about, 
by  degrees,  over  the  whole  of  this  kingdom.  All  the 
authorities,  all  the  arguments,  will  be  brought  into 
this  small  compass;  and  I  do  natter  myself  that 
many  months  will  not  pass  over  our  heads,  before  all 
but  misers  and  madmen  will  be  ashamed  to  talk  of 
abolishing  the  poor-rates  and  of  supporting  the 
needy  by  grants  and  subscriptions. 

I  am, 
Your  faithful  friend  and 

Most  obedient  servant, 

WM.  COBBETT. 


NUMBER  II. 

Bollitree  Castle,  Herefordshire,  22d  Sept.  1826. 
MY  EXCELLENT  FRIENDS, 

34.  In  the  last  Number,  paragraph  33,  I  told  you, 
that  I  would,  in  the  present  Number,  conclude  the  dis- 
cussion of  the  great  question  of  theft,  or  no  theft,  in 
a  case  of  taking  another's  goods  without  his  consent, 
or  against  his  will,  the  taker  being  pressed  by  ex- 
treme necessity.  I  laid  before  you,  in  the  last  Num- 
ber, JUDGE  HALE'S  doctrine  upon  the  subject;  and  I 
16* 


28  COBBETT'S  [No. 

there  mentioned  the  foul  conduct  of  BLACKSTONE,  the 
author  of  the  "Commentaries  on  the  Laws  of  Eng- 
land." I  will  not  treat  this  unprincipled  lawyer,  this 
shocking  court  sycophant;  I  will  not  treat  him  as  he 
has  treated  King  Solomon  and  the  Holy  Scriptures  ; 
I  will  not  garble,  misquote,  and  belie  him,  as  he  gar- 
bled, misquoted,  and  belied  them ;  I  will  give  the 
whole  of  the  passage  to  which  I  allude,  and  which 
my  readers  may  find  in  the  Fourth  Book  of  his  Com- 
mentaries. I  request  you  to  read  it  with  great  atten- 
tion ,;  and  to  compare  it,  very  carefully,  with  the  pas- 
sage that  I  have  quoted  from  SIR  MATTHEW  HALE, 
which  you  will  find  in  paragraphs  from  19  to  21 
inclusive.  The  passage  from  BLACKSTONE  is  as 
follows  : 

35.  "  There  is  yet  another  case  of  necessity, 
which  has  occasioned  great  speculation  among  the 
writers  upon  general  law;  viz.,  whether  a  man  in 
extreme  want  of  food  or  clothing  may  justify  steal- 
ing either,  to  relieve  his  present  necessities.  And 
this  both  GROTIUS  and  PUFFENDORF,  together  with 
many  other  of  the  foreign  jurists,  hold  in  the 
affirmative;  maintaining  by  many  ingenious,  hu- 
mane, and  plausible  reasons,  that  in  such  cases  the 
community  of  goods  by  a  kind  of  tacit  concession  of 
society  is  revived.  And  some  even  of  our  own  law- 
yers have  held  the  same ;  though  it  seems  to  be  an 
unwarranted  doctrine,  borrowed  from  the  notions  of 
some  civilians:  at  least  it  is  now  antiquated,  the  law 
of  England  admitting  no  such  excuse  at  present. 
And  this  its  doctrine  is  agreeable  not  only  to  the  sen- 
timents of  many  of  the  wisest  ancients,  particularly 
CICERO,  who  holds  that  c  suum  cuique  incommodum 
ferendum  est,  potius  quam  de  alterius  commodis  cle- 
trahendum;'  but  also  to  the  Jewish  law,  as  certified 
by  King  Solomon  himself:  '  If  a  thief  steal  to  satisfy 
his  soul  when  he  is  hungry,  he  shall  restore  seven- 
fold, and  shall  give  all  the  substance  of  his  house:' 
which  was  the  ordinary  punishment  for  theft  in  that 
kingdom.  And  this  is  founded  upon  the  highest  rea- 
son: for  men's  properties  would  be  under  a  strange 


II.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  29 

insecurity,  if  liable  to  be  invaded  according  to  the 
wants  of  others ;  of  which  wants  no  man  can  possi- 
bly be  an  adequate  judge,  but  the  party  himself  who 
pleads  them.  In  this  country  especially,  there  would 
be  a  peculiar  impropriety  in  admitting  so  dubious  an 
excuse  ;  for  by  our  laws  such  a  sufficient  provision  is 
made  for  the  poor  by  the  power  of  the  civil  magis- 
trate, that  it  is  impossible  that  the  most  needy  stran- 
ger should  ever  be  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  thiev- 
ing to  support  nature.  This  case  of  a  stranger  is,  by 
the  way,  the  strongest  instance  put  by  Baron  PUFFEN- 
DORF,  and  whereon  he  builds  his  principal  arguments  ; 
which,  however  they  may  hold  upon  the  continent, 
"where  the  parsimonious  industry  of  the  natives  or- 
ders every  one  to  work  or  starve,  yet  must  lose  all 
their  weight  and  efficacy  in  England,  where  charity 
is  reduced  to  a  system,  and  interwoven  in  our  very 
constitution.  Therefore,  our  laws  ought  by  no  means 
to  be  taxed  with  being  unmerciful,  for  denying  this 
privilege  to  the  necessitous  ;  especially  when  we  con- 
sider, that  the  king,  on  the  representation  of  his  mi- 
nisters of  justice,  hath  a  power  to  soften  the  law,  and 
to  extend  mercy  in  cases  of  peculiar  hardship.  An 
advantage  which  is  wanting  in  many  states,  parti- 
cularly those  which  are  democratical :  and  these  have 
in  its  stead  introduced  and  adopted,  in  the  body  of 
the  law  itself,  a  multitude  of  circumstances  tending 
to  alleviate  its  rigour.  But  the  founders  of 'our  con- 
stitution thought  it  better  to  vest  in  the  crown  the 
power  of  pardoning  peculiar  objects  of  compassion, 
than  to  countenance  and  establish  theft  by  one  gene- 
ral undistinguishing  law." 

36.  First  of  all,  I  beg  you  to  observe,  that  this  pas- 
sage is  merely  a  flagrant  act  of  theft,  committed 
upon  JUDGE  HALE  ;  next,  you  perceive,  that  which  I 
noticed  in  paragraph  28,  a  most  base  and  impudent 
garbling  of  the  Scriptures.  Next,  you  see,  that 
BLACKSTONE,  like  HALE,  comes,  at  last,  to  the  poor- 
laws;  and  tells  us  that  to  take  other  men's  goods 
without  leave,  is  theft,  because  "  charity  is  here  re- 
duced to  a  system,  and  interwoven  in  our  very  con- 


30  COBBETT'S  [No. 

stitution."  That  is  to  say,  to  relieve  the  necessitous  ; 
to  prevent  their  suffering  from  want ;  completely  to 
render  starvation  impossible,  makes  a  part  of  our 
very  constitution.  "  THEREFORE,  our  laws  ought 
by  no  means  to  be  taxed  with  being  unmerciful  for 
denying  this  privilege  to  the  necessitous."  Pray 
mark  the  word  therefore.  You  see,  our  laws,  he 
says,  are  not  to  be  taxed  with  being  unmerciful  in 
deeming  the  necessitous  taker  a  thief.  And  why  are 
they  not  to  be  deemed  unmerciful?  BECAUSE 
the  laws  provide  effectual  relief  for  the  necessitous. 
It  follows,  then,  of  course,  even  according  to  BLACK- 
STONE  himself,  that  if  the  Constitution  had  not  pro- 
vided this  effectual  relief  for  the  necessitous,  then  the 
laws  would  have  been  unmerciful  in  deeming  the  ne- 
cessitous taker  a  thief. 

37.  But  now  let  us  hear  what  that  GROTIUS  and 
that  PUFFENDORF  say ;  let  us  hear  what  these  great 
writers  on  the  law  of  nature  and  of  nations  say  upon 
this  subject.     BLACKSTONE  has  mentioned  the  names 
of  them  both ;  but  he  has  not  thought  proper  to  no- 
tice their  arguments,  much  less  has  he  attempted  to 
answer  them.     They  are  two  of  the  most  celebrated 
men  that  ever  wrote  ;  and  their  writings  are  referred 
to  as  high  authority,  with  regard  to  all  the  subjects  of 
which  they  have  treated.     The  following  is  a  pas- 
sage from  GROTIUS,  on  War  and  Peace,  Book  II., 
chap.  2. 

38.  "  Let  us  see,  further,  what  common  right  there 
appertains  to  men  in  those  things  which  have  already 
become  the  property  of  individuals.     Some  persons, 
perchance,  may  consider  it  strange  to  question  this, 
as  proprietorship  seems  to  have  absorbed  all  that 
right  which  arose  out  of  a  state  of  things  in  common. 
But  it  is  not  so.     For,  it  is  to  be  considered,  what 
was  the  intention  of  those  who  first  introduced  pri- 
vate property,  which  we  may  suppose  to  have  been 
such,  as  to  deviate  as  little  as  possible  from  natural 
equity.  '  For  if  even  written  laws  are  to  be  construed 
in  that  sense,  as  far  as  it  is  practicable,  much  more 
so  are  customs,  which  are  not  fettered  by  the  chains 


II.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  31 

of  writers. — Hence  it  follows,  first,  that,  in  case  of 
extreme  necessity,  the  pristine  right  of  using  things 
revives,  as  much  as  if  they  had  remained  in  common ; 
because,  in  all  human  laws,  as  well  as  in  the  law  of 
private  property,  this  case  of  extreme  necessity  ap-* 
pears  to  have  been  excepted. — So,  if  the  means  of 
sustenance,  as  in  case  of  a  sea-voyage,  should  chance 
to  fail,  that  which  any  individual  may  have,  should 
be  shared  in  common.  And  thus,  a  fire  having  broken 
out,  I  am  justified  in  destroying  the  house  of  my 
neighbour,  in  order  to  preserve  my  own  house  ;  and  I 
may  cut  in  two  the  ropes  or  cords  amongst  which 
any  ship  is  driven,  if  it  cannot  be  otherwise  disen- 
tangled. All  which  exceptions  are  not  made  in  the 
written  law,  but  are  presumed. — For  the  opinion  has 
been  acknowledged  amongst  Divines,  that,  if  any  one, 
in  such  case  of  necessity,  take  from  another  person 
what  is  requisite  for  the  preservation  of  his  life, 
he  does  not  commit  a  theft.  The  meaning  of  which 
definition  is  not,  as  many  contend,  that  the  proprie- 
tor of  the  thing  be  bound  to  give  to  the  needy  upon 
the  principle  of  charity;  but,  that  all  things  distinct- 
ly vested  in  proprietors  ought  to  be  regarded  as  such 
with  a  certain  benign  acknowledgment  of  the  primi- 
tive right.  For  if  the  original  distributors  of  things 
were  questioned,  as  to  what  they  thought  about  this 
matter,  they  would  reply  what  I  have  said.  Neces- 
sity, says  Father  SENECA,  the  great  excuse  for  hum  an 
weakness,  breaks  every  law  ;  that  is  to  say,  human 
law,  or  law  made  after  the  manner  of  man." 

39.  "  But  cautions  ought  to  be  had,  for  fear  this  li- 
cense should  be  abused  :  of  which  the  principal  is,  to 
try,  in  every  way,  whether  the  necessity  can  be  avoid- 
ed by  any  other  means ;  for  instance,  by  making  ap- 
plication to  the  magistrate,  or  even  by  trying  whether 
the  use  of  the  thing  can,  by  entreaties,  be  obtained 
from  the  proprietor.  PLATO  permits  water  to  be 
fetched  from  the  well  of  a  neighbour  upon  this  con- 
dition alone,  that  the  person  asking  for  such  permis- 
sion shall  dig  in  his  own  well  in  search  of  water  as 
far  as  the  chalk :  and  SOLON,  that  he  shall  dig  in  his 


32  COBBETT'S  [No. 

own  well  as  far  as  forty  cubits.  Upon  which  PLU- 
TARCH adds,  that  he  judged  that  necessity  was  to  be 
relieved,  not  laziness  to  be  encouraged" 

40.  Such  is  the  doctrine  of  this  celebrated  civilian. 
Let  us  now  hear  PUFFENDORF  ;  and'you  will  please  to 
bear  in  mind,  that  both  these  writers  are  of  the  great- 
est authority  upon  all  subjects  connected  with  the 
laws  of  nature  and  of  nations.    We  read  in  their 
works  the  result  of  an  age  of  study :  they  have  been 
two  of  the  great  guides  of  mankind  ever  since  they 
wrote :  and,  we  are  not  to  throw  them  aside,  in  order 
to  listen  exclusively  to  Parson  HAY,  to  HULTON   OF 
HULTON,  or  to  NICHOLAS  GRIMSIIAW.     They  tell  us 
what  they,  and  what  other  wise  men,  deemed  to  be 
right ;   and,  as  we  shall  by  and  by  see,  the  laws  of 
England,  so  justly  boasted  of  by  our  ancestors,  hold 
precisely  the  same  language  with  these  celebrated 
men.  After  the  following  passage  from  PUFFENDORF, 
I  shall  show  you  what  our  own  lawyers  say  upon  the 
subject;  but  I  request  you  to  read  the  following  pas- 
sage with  the  greatest  attention. 

41.  "  Let  us  inquire,  in  the  next  place,  whether  the 
necessity  of  preserving  our  life  can  give  us  any  right 
over  other  men's  goods,  so  as  to  make  it  allowable  for 
us  to  seize  on  them  for  our  relief,  either  secretly,  or 
by  open  force,  against  the  owner's  consent.     For  the 
more  clear  and  solid  determination  of  which  point,  we 
think  it  necessary  to  hint  in  short  on  the  causes  upon 
which  distinct  properties  were  first  introduced  in  the 
world ;  designing  to  examine  them  more  at  large  in 
their  proper  place.     Now  the  main  reasons  on  which 
properties  are  founded,  we  take  to  be  these  two ;  that 
the  feuds  and  quarrels  might  be  appeased  which  arose 
in  the  primitive  communion  of  things,  and  that  men 
might  be  put  under  a  kind  of  necessity  of  being  indus- 
trious, every  one  being  to  get  his  maintenance  by  his 
own  application  and  labour.     This  division,  therefore, 
of  goods,  was  not  made,  that  every  person  should  sit 
idly  brooding  over  the  share  of  wealth  he  had  got, 
without  assisting  or  serving  his  fellows ;  but  that  any 
one  might  dispose  of  his  things  how  he  pleased  ;  and 


II.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  33 

if  he  thought  fit  to  communicate  them  to  others,  he 
might,  at  least,  be  thus  furnished  with  an  opportunity 
of  laying  obligations  on  the  rest  of  mankind.  Hence, 
when  properties  were  once  established,  men  obtained 
a  power,  not  only  of  exercising  commerce  to  their 
mutual  advantage  and  gain,  but  likewise  of  dispen-  • 
sing  more  largely  in  the  works  of  humanity  and  be- 
neficence; whence  their  diligence  had  procured  them 
a  greater  share  of  goods  than  others  :  whereas  before, 
when  all  things  lay  in  common,  men  could  lend  one 
another.no  assistance  but  what  was  supplied  by  their 
corporeal  ability,  and  could  be  charitable  of  nothing 
but  of  their  strength.  Further,  such  is  the  force  of 
property,  that  the  proprietor  hath  a  right  of  delivering 
his  goods  with  his  own  hands ;  even  such  as  he  is 
obliged  to  give  to  others.  Whence  it  follows,  that 
when  one  man  has  anything  owing  from  another,  he 
is  not  presently  to  seize  on  it  at  a  venture,  but  ought 
to  apply  himself  to  the  owner,  desiring  to  receive  it 
from  his  disposal.  Yet  in  case  the  other  party  refuse 
thus  to  make  good  his  obligation,  the  power  and  pri- 
vilege of  property  doth  not  reach  so  far  as  that  the 
things  may  not  be  taken  away  without  the  owner's 
consent,  either  by  the  authority  of  the  magistrate  in 
civil  communities,  or  in  a  state  of  nature,  by  violence 
and  hostile  force.  And  thougn  in  regard  to  bare 
Natural  Right,  for  a  man  to  relieve  another  in  extrem- 
ity with  his  goods,  for  which  he  himself  hath  not  so 
much  occasion,  be  a  duty  obliging  only  imperfectly^ 
and  not  in  the  manner  of  a  debt,  since  it  arises  wholly 
from  the  virtue  of  humanity;  yet  there  seems  to  be 
no  reason  why,  by  the  additional  force  of  a  civil  ordi- 
nance, it  may  not  be  turned  into  a  strict  and -perfect 
obligation.  And  this  Seldon  observes  to  have  been 
done  among  the  Jews ;  who,  upon  a  man's  refusing 
to  give  such  alms  as  were  proper  for  him,  could  force 
him  to  it  by  an  action  at  law.  It  is  no  wonder,  there- 
fore, that  they  should  forbid  their  poor,  on  any  account, 
to  seize  on  the  goods  of  others,  enjoining  them  to  take 
only  what  private  persons,  or  the  public  officers,  or 
stewards  of  alms,  should  give  them  on  their  petition* 


34  COBBETT'S  [No. 

Whence  the  stealing  of  what  was  another's,  though 
upon  extreme  necessity,  passed  in  that  state  for  theft 
or  rapine.  But  now  supposing  under  another  govern- 
ment the  like  good  provision  is  not  made  for  persons 
in  want,  supposing  likewise  that  the  covetous  temper 
of  men  of  substance  cannot  be  prevailed  on  to  give 
relief,  and  that  the  needy  creature  is  not  able,  either 
by  his  work  or  service,  or  by  making  sale  of  anything 
that  he  possesses,  to  assist  his  present  necessity,  must 
he,  therefore,  perish  with  famine  ?  Or  can  any  hu- 
man institution  bind  me  with  such  a  force  that,  in 
case  another  man  neglects  his  duty  towards  me,  / 
must  rather  die,  than  recede  a  little  from  the  ordina- 
ry and  regular  way  of  acting  ?  We  conceive,  there- 
fore, that  such  a  person  doth  not  contract  the  guilt  of 
theft,  who  happening,  not  through  his  own  fault,  to  be 
in  extreme  want,  either  of  necessary  food,  or  of  clothes 
to  preserve  him  from  the  violence  of  the  weather, 
and  cannot  obtain  them  from  the  voluntary  gift  of  the 
rich,  either  by  urgent  entreaties,  or  by  offering  some- 
what equivalent  in  price,  or  by  engaging  to  work  it 
out,  shall  either  forcibly  or  privily  relieve  him  self  out 
of  their  abundance;  especially  if  he  do  it  with  full 
intention  to  pay  the  value  of  them  whenever  his  bet- 
ter fortune  gives  him  ability.  Some  men  deny  that 
such  a  icase  of  necessity,  as  we  speak  of,  can  possibly 
happen.  But  what  if  a  man  should  wander  in  a  for- 
eign land,  unknown,  friendless,  and  in  want,  spoiled 
of  all  he  had  by  shipwreck,  or  by  robbers,  or  having 
lost  by  some  casualty  whatever  he  was  worth  in  his 
own  country;  should  none  be  found  willing  either  to 
relieve  his  distress,  or  to  hire  his  service,  or  should 
they  rather  (as  it  commonly  happens,)  seeing  him  in 
a  good  garb,  suspect  him  to  beg  without  reason,  must 
the  poor  creature  starve  in  this  miserable  condition  ?" 
42.  Many  other  great  foreign  authorities  might  be 
referred  to,  and  I  cannot  help  mentioning  COVARRU- 
vius,  who  is  spoken  of  by  JUDGE  HALE,  and  who  ex- 
presses himself  upon  the  subject  in  these  words: 
"  The  reason  why  a  man  in  extreme  necessity  may, 
without  incurring  the  guilt  of  theft  or  rapine,  forci- 


II.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  35 

bly  take  the  goods  of  others  for  his  present  relief,  is 
because  his  condition  renders  all  things  common. 
For  it  is  the  ordinance  and  institution  of  nature  itself, 
that  inferior  things  should  be  designed  and  directed 
to  serve  the  necessities  of  men.  Wherefore  the  divi- 
sion of  goods  afterwards  introduced  into  the  world 
doth  not  derogate  from  that  precept  of  natural  reason, 
which  "suggests,  that  the  extreme  wants  of  mankind 
may  be  in  any  manner  removed  by  the  use  of  tempo- 
ral possessions."  PUFFENDORF  tells  us,  that  PERESIUS 
maintains,  that,  in  case  of  extreme  necessity,  a  man 
is  compelled  to  the  action,  by  a  force  which  he  can- 
not resist ;  and  then,  that  the  owner's  consent  may  be 
presumed  on,  because  humanity  obliges  him  to  suc- 
cour those  who  are  in  distress.  The  same  writer  cites 
a  passage  from  St.  AMBROSE,  one  of  the  FATHERS 
of  the  church,  which  alleges  that  (in  case  of  refu- 
sing to  give  to  persons  in  extreme  necessity)  it  is  the 
person  who  retains  the  goods  who  is  guilty  of  the  act 
of  wrong  doing,  for  St.  AMBROSE  says,  "it  is  the 
bread  of  the  hungry  which  you  detain  ;  it  is  the  rai- 
ment of  the  naked  which  you'lock  up." 

43.  Before  I  come  to  the  English  authorities  on 
the  same  side,  let  me  again  notice  the  foul  dealing  of 
Blackstone  ;  let  me  point  out  another  instance  or  two  . 
of  the  insincerity  of  this  English  court-sycophant,  who 
was,  let  it  be  noted,  Solicitor-general  to  the  queen  of 
the  "  good  old  King."  You  have  seen,  in  paragraph  28, 
a  most  flagrant  instance  of  his  perversion  of  the  Scrip- 
tures. He  garbles  the  word  of  God,  and  prefaces 
the  garbling  by  calling  it  a  thing  "  certified  by  King 
Solomon  himself;"  and  this  word  certified  he  makes 
use  of  just  when  he  is  about  to  begin  the  scandalous 
falsification  of  the  text  which  he  is  referring  to.  Nev- 
er was  anything  more  base.  But,  the  whole  extent 
of  the  baseness  we  have  not  yet  seen ;  for,  BLACK- 
STONE  had  read  HALE,  who  had  quoted  the  two  verses 
fairly ;  but  besides  this,  he  had  read  PUFFENDORF, 
who  had  noticed  very  fully  this  text  of  Scripture,  and 
who  had  shown  very  clearly  that  it  did  not  at  all 
make  in  favour  of  the  doctrine  of  Blackstone.  Black- 
17 


36  COBBETT'S  [No, 

stone  ought  to  have  given  the  argument  of  PUFFEN- 
DORF ;  he  ought  to  have  given  the  whole  of  his  argu- 
ment ;  hut  particularly  he  ought  to  have  given  this 
explanation  of  the  passage  in  the  PROVERBS,  which 
explanation  I  have  inserted  in  paragraph  27.  It  was 
also  the  height  of  insincerity  in  BLACKSTONE,  to  pre- 
tend that  the  passage  from  CICERO  had  anything  at 
all  to  do  with  the  matter.  He  knew  weir  that  it 
had  not ;  he  knew  that  CICERO  contemplated  no  case 
of  extreme  necessity  for  want  of  food  or  clothing ; 
but,  he  had  read  PUFFENDORF,  and  PUFFENDORF  had 
told  him,  that  CICERO'S  was  a  question  of  the  mere 
conveniences  and  inconveniences  of  life  in  general ; 
and  not  a  question  of  pinching  hunger  or  shivering 
nakedness.  BLACKSTONE  had  seen  his  fallacy  expo- 
sed by  PUFFENDORF  ;  he  had  seen  the  misapplication 
of  this  passage  of  CICERO  fully  exposed  by  PUFFEN- 
DORF; and  yet  the  base  court-sycophant  trumped  it  up 
again,  without  mentioning  PUFFENDORF'S  exposure  of 
the  fallacy  !  In  short  this  BLACKSTONE,  upon  this 
occasion,  as  upon  almost  all  others,  has  gone  all 
lengths  ;  has  set  detection  and  reproof  at  defiance,  for 
the  sake  of  making  his  court  to  the  government  by 
inculcating  harshness  in  the  application  of  the  law, 
and  by  giving  to  the  law  such  an  interpretation  as 
would  naturally  tend  to  justify  that  harshness. 

44.  Let  us  now  cast  away  from  us  this  insincere 
sycophant,  and  turn  to  other  law  authorities  of  our 
own  country.  The  Mirrour  of  Justices,  (quoted  by 
me  in  paragraph  14,)  Chap.  4,  Section  16,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  arrest  of  judgment  of  death,  has  this  passage. 
Judgment  is  to  be  staid  in  seven  cases  here  specified : 
and  the  seventh  is  this  :  "  in  POVERTY,  in  which 
case  you  are  to  distinguish  of  the  poverty  of  the  of- 
fender, or  of  things  ;  for  if  poor  people,  to  avoid  fam- 
'ine,  take  victuals  to  sustain  their  lives,  or  clothes  that 
they  die  not  of  cold,  (so  that  they  perish  if  they  keep 
not  themselves  from  cold,)  they  are  not  to  be  adjudg- 
ed to  death,  if  it  were  not  in  their  power  to  have  bought 
their  victuals  or  clothes  ;  for  as  much  as  they  are  war- 
ranted so  to  do  by  the  law  of  nature."  Now,  my 


II.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  37 

friends,  you  will  observe,  that  I  take  this  from  a  book 
which  may  almost  be  called  the  BIBLE  of  the  law. 
There  is  no  lawyer  who  will  deny  the  goodness  of 
this  authority ;  or  who  will  attempt  to  say  that  this 
was  not  always  the  law  of  England. 

45.  Our  next  authority  is  one  quite  as  authentic, 
and  almost  as  ancient.  The  book  goes  by  the  name 
of  BRITTON,  which  was  the  name  of  a  Bishop  of 
Hereford,  who  edited  it,  in  the  famous  reign  of  EDWARD 
THE  FIRST.  The  book  does,  in  fact,  contain  the  laws  of 
the  kingdom  as  they  existed  at  that  time.  It  may  be  call- 
ed the  record  of  the  laws  of  Ed  ward  the  First.  It  begins 
thus,  "  Edward  by  the  grace  of  God,  King  of  England 
and  Lord  of  Ireland,  to  all  his  liege  subjects,  peace, 
and  grace  of  salvation."  The  preamble  goes  on  to 
state,  that  people  cannot  be  happy  without  good  laws ; 
that  even  good  laws  are  of  no  use  unless  they  be  known 
and  understood;  and  that,  therefore,  the  king  has  order- 
ed the  laws  of  England  thus  to  be  written  and  recorded. 
This  book  is  very  well  known  to  be  of  the  greatest  au- 
thority, amongst  lawyers,  and  in  Chap.  10  of  this  book, 
in  which  the  law  describes  what  constitutes  a  BUR- 
GLAR, or  house-breaker,  and  the  punishment  that  he 
shall  suffer  (which  is  that  of  death,)  there  is  this  pas- 
sage :  "Those  are  to  be  deemed  burglars  who  felo- 
niously, in  time  of  peace,  break  into  churches  or  hou- 
ses, or  through  walls  or  doors  of  our  cities,  or  our 
boroughs  ;  with  exception  of  children  under  age,  and 
of poor  people  who  for  hunger,  enter  to  take  any  sort 
of  victuals  of  less  value  than  twelve  pence  ;  and  ex- 
cept idiots  and  mad  people,  and  others  that  cannot 
commit  felony."  Thus,  you  see,  this  agrees  with  the 
MIRROUR  OF  JUSTICES,  and  with  all  that  we  have  read 
before  from  these  numerous  high  authorities.  But 
this,  taken  in  its  full  latitude,  goes  a  great  length  in- 
deed ;  for  a  burglar  is  a  breaker-in  by  night.  So  that 
this  is  not  only  a  taking  ;  but  a  breaking  into  a  house 
in  order  to  take  !  And  observe,  it  is  taking  to  the  val- 
ue of  twelve  pence ;  and  twelve  pence  then  was  the 
price  of  a  couple  of  sheep,  and  of  fine  fat  sheep  too; 
nay,  twelve  pence  w^s  the  price  of  an  ox,  in  this 


38  COBBETT'S  [No. 

very  reign  of  Edward  the  First.  So  that,  a  hungry 
man  might  have  a  pretty  good  belly-full  in  those  days 
without  running  the  risk  of  punishment.  Observe,  by- 
the-by,  how  time  has  hardened  the  law.  We  are  told  of 
the  dark  ages,  of  the  barbarous  customs,  of  our  fore- 
fathers :  and  we  have  a  SIR  JAMES  MACKINTOSH  to 
receive  and  to  present  petitions  innumerable,  from 
the  most  tender  hearted  creatures  in  the  world,  about 
"  softening  the  criminal  code  ;"  but,  not  a  word  do 
they  ever  say  about  a  softening  of  this  law,  which 
now  hangs  a  man  for  stealing  the  value  of  a  RAB- 
BIT, and  which  formerly  did  not  hang  him  till  he 
stole  the  value  of  an  OX  !  -Curious  enough,  but  still 
more  scandalous,  that  we  should  have  the  impudence 
to  talk  of  our  humanity,  and  our  civilization,  and  of 
the  barbarousness  of  our  forefathers.  But,  if  a  part 
of  the  ancient  law  remain,  shall  not  the  whole  of  it 
remain  ?  If  we  hang  the  thief,  still  hang  the  thief 
for  stealing  to  the  value  of  twelve  pence  ;  though  the 
twelve  pence  now  represents  a  rabbit  instead  of  an 
ox;  if  we  still  do  this,  would  BLACKSTONE  take  away 
the  benefit  of  the  ancient  law  from  the  starving  man? 
The  passage  that  I  have  quoted  is  of  such  great  im- 
portance as  to  this  question,  that  I  think  it  necessary 
to  add,  here,  a  copy  of  the  original,  which  is  in  the 
old  Norman- French,  of  which  I  give  the  translation 
above.  "  Sunt  tenus  burgessours  trestous  ceux,  que 
felonisement  en  temps  de  pees  debrusent  esglises 
ou  auter  mesons,  ou  murs,  ou  portes  de  nos  cytes,  ou 
de  nos  burghes  ;  hors  pris  enfauntz  dedans  age,  et 
poures,  que,  pur  feyn,  entret  pur  ascun  vitaille  de 
meindre  value  q'  de  xii  deners,  et  hors  pris  fous  nastres, 
et  gens  arrages,  et  autres  que  seuent  nule  felonie  faire." 
46.  After  this,  lawyers,  at  any  rate,  will  not  attempt 
to  gainsay.  If  there  should,  however,  remain  any  one 
to  affect  to  doubt  of  the  soundness  of  this  doctrine,  let 
them  take  the  following  from  him  who  is  always  call- 
ed the  "pride  of  philosophy, "the  "pride  of  English 
learning,"  and  whom  the  poet  POPE  calls  "  greatest 
aad  wisest  of  mankind."  It  is  LORD  BACON  of  whom 
I  am  speaking.  He  was  Lord  High  Chancellor  in 


II.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  39 

the  reign  of  James  the  First ;  and,  let  it  be  observedy 
that  he  wrote  those  "law  tracts,"  from  which  I  am 
about  to  quote,  long  after  the  present  poor-laws  had 
been  established.  He  says  (Law  Tracts,  page  55,) 
"  The  law  chargeth  no  man  with  default  where  the 
act  is  compulsory  and  not  voluntary,  and  where  there 
is  not  consent  and  election ;  and,  therefore,  if  either 
there  be  an  impossibility  for  a  man  to  do  otherwise, 
or  so  great  a  perturbation  of  the  judgment  and  reason, 
as  in  presumption  of  law  a  man's  nature  cannot  over- 
come, such  necessity  carrieth  a  privilege  in  itself. — 
Necessity  is  of  three  sorts  :  necessity  of  conservation 
of  life  ;  necessity  of  obedience  ;  and  necessity  of  the 
act  of  God  or  of  a  stranger. — First,  of  conservation  of 
life  ;  if  a  man  steal  viands  (victuals)  to  satisfy  his 
present  hunger,  this  is  no  felony  nor  larceny" 

47.  If  any  man  want  more  authority,  his  heart 
must  be  hard  indeed ;  he  must  have  an  uncommonly 
anxious  desire  to  take  away  by  the  halter  the  life 
that  sought  to  preserve  itself  against  hunger.  But, 
after  all,  what  need  had  we  of  any  authorities? 
What  need  had  we  even  of  reason  upon  the  subject? 
Who  is  there  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  except  the 
monsters  that  come  from  across  the  channel  of  St. 
George ;  who  is  there  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  ex- 
cept those  monsters,  that  have  the  brass,  the  hard 
hearts  and  the  brazen  faces,  which  enable  them  coolly 
to  talk  of  the  "MERIT"  of  the  degraded  creatures, 
who,  amidst  an  abundance  of  food,  amidst  a  "  super- 
abundance of  food,"  lie  quietly  down  and  receive  the 
extreme  unction,  and  expire  with  hunger?  Who, 
upon  the  face  of  the  whole  earth,  except  these  mon- 
sters, these  ruffians  by  way  of  excellence ;  who,  ex- 
cept these,  the  most  insolent  and  hard-hearted  ruffians 
that  ever  lived,  will  contend,  or  will  dare  to  think, 
that  there  ought  to  be  any  force  under  heaven  to 
compel  a  man  to  lie  down  at  the  door  of  a  baker's 
and  butcher's  shop,  and  expire  with  hunger !  The 
very  nature  of  man  makes  him  shudder  at  the  thought. 
There  want  no  authorities  ;  no  appeal  to  law  books  ; 
no  arguments ;  no  questions  of  right  or  wrong :  that 
17* 


40  COBBETT'^  [No. 

same  human  nature  that  tells  me  that  I  am  not  to  cut 
my  neighbour's  throat,  and  drink  his  blood,  tells  me 
that  I  am  not  to  make  him  die  at  my  feet  by  keeping 
from  him  food  or  raiment  of  which  I  have  more  than 
I  want  for  my  own  preservation. 

48.  Talk  of  barbarians,  indeed;  Talk  of" the  dark 
and  barbarous  ages."    Why,  even  in  the  days  of  the 
DRUIDS,  such  barbarity  as  that  of  putting  men  to  death, 
or  of  punishing  them  for  taking  to  relieve  their  hun- 
ger, was   never  thought  of.     In  the  year   1811,  the 
REV.  PETER  ROBERTS,  A.  M.  published  a  book,  enti- 
tled COLLECTANEA  CAMERICA.     In  the  first  volume  of 
that  book,  there  is  an  account  of  the  laws  of  the  AN- 
CIENT BRITONS.    Hume,  and  other  Scotchmen,  would 
make  us  believe,  that  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  this 
country  were  a  set  of  savages,  clothed  in  skins  and 
the  like.    The  laws  of  this  people  were  collected  and 
put  into  writing,  in  the  year  694  before  Christ.    The 
following  extract  from  these  laws  shows,  that  the 
moment  civil  society  began  to  exist,  that  moment 
the  law  took  care  that  people  should  not  be  starved 
to  death.     That  moment  it  took  care,  that  provision 
should  be  made  for  the  destitute,  or  that,  in  cases  of 
extreme  necessity,  men  were  to  preserve  themselves 
from  death  by  taking  from  those  who  had  to  spare. 
The  words  of  these  laws  (as  applicable  to  our  case) 
given  by  Mr.  ROBERTS,  are  as  follows  : — "  There  are 
three  distinct  kinds  of  personal  individual  property, 
which  cannot  be  shared  with  another,  or  surrendered 
in  payment  of  fine ;   viz.,  a  wife,  a  child,  and  argy- 
frew.     By  the  word  argyfrew  is  meant,  clothes,  arms, 
or  the  implements  of  a  lawful  calling.     For  without 
these  a  man  has  not  the  means  of  support,  and  it 
would  be  unjust  in  the  law  to  unman  a  man,  or  to 
uncoil  a  man  as  to  his  calling."  TRIAD  53d. — "Three 
kinds  of  THIEVES  are  not  to  be  punished  with  DEATH. 
1.  A  wife,  who  joins  with  her  husband  in  theft.     2. 
A  youth  under  age.     And  3.  One  who,  after  he  has 
asked,  in  vain,  for  support,  in  three  towns,  and  at 
nine  houses  in  each  town."    TRIAD  137. 

49.  There  were,  then,  houses  and  towns,  it  seems; 


II.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  41 

and  the  towns  were  pretty  thickly  spread  too ;  and,  as 
to  "civilization"  and  "refinement,"  let  this  law  rela- 
tive to  a  youth  under  age,  be  compared  with  the  new 
orchard  and  garden  law,  and  with  the  tread-mill 
affair,  and  new  trespass  law! 

50.  We  have  a  law,  called  the  VAGRANT  ACT,  to 
punish  men  for  begging.     We  have  a  law  to  punish 
men  for  not  working  to  keep  their  families.     Now, 
with  what  show  of  justice  can  these  laws  be  main- 
tained?    They  are  founded  upon  this;  the  first,  that 
begging  is  disgraceful  to  the  country  ;  that  it  is  de- 
grading to  the  character  of  man,  and,  of  course,  to 
the  character  of  an  Englishman  ;  and,  that  there  is 
no  necessity  for  begging,  because  the  law  has  made 
ample  provision  for  every  person  in  distress.     The 
law  for  punishing  men  for  not  working  to  maintain 
their  families  is  founded  on  this,  that  they  are  doing 
wrong  to  their  neighbours ;   their  neighbours,  that  is 
to  say,  the  parish,  being  bound  to  keep  the  family,  if 
they  be  not  kept  by  the  man's  labour ;  and,  therefore, 
his  not  labouring  is  a  wrong  done  to  the  parish.    The 
same  may  be  said  with  regard  to  the  punishment  for 
not  maintaining  bastard  children.     There  is  some 
reason  for  these  laws,  as  long  as  the  poor-laws  are 
duly  executed;  as  long  as  the  poor  are  duly  relieved, 
according  to  law ;    but,  unless  the  poor-laws  exist; 
unless  they  be  in  full  force  ;  unless  they  be  duly  exe- 
cuted ;  unless  efficient  and  prompt  relief  be  given  to 
necessitous  persons,  these  acts,  and  many  others  ap- 
proaching to  a  similar  description,  are  acts  of  bare- 
faced and  most  abominable  tyranny.     I  should  say 
that  they  would  be  acts  of  such  tyranny ;  for  generally 
speaking,  the  poor-laws  are,  as  yet,  fairly  executed, 
and  efficient  as  to  their  object. 

51.  The  law  of  this  country  is,  that  every  man, 
able  to  carry  arms,  is  liable  to  be  called  on,  to  serve 
in  the  militia,  or  to  serve  as  a  soldier  in  some  way  or 
other,  in  order  to  defend  the  country.     What,  then, 
the   man  has  no  land;    he  has  no  property  beyond 
his  mere  body,  and  clothes,  and  tools ;    he  has  no- 
thing that  an  enemy  can  take  away  from  him.  What 


42  COBBETT'S  [No, 

justice  is  there,  then,  in  calling  upon  this  man  to 
take  up  arms  and  risk  his  life  in  the  defence  of  the 
land:  what  is  the  land  to  him  ?  I  say,  that  it  is  some- 
thing to  him ;  I  sayy  that  he  ought  to  be  called  forth  to 
assist  to  defend  the  land  ;  because,  however  poor  he 
may  be,  he  has  a  share  in  the  land,  through  the  poor- 
rates  ;  and  if  he  he  liable  to  be  called  forth  to  defend 
the  land,  the  land  is  always  liable  to  be  taxed  for  his 
support.  This  is  what  I  say:  my  opinions  are  con- 
sistent with  reason,  with  justice,  and  with  the  law 
of  the  land;  but,  how  can  MALTHUS  and  his  silly  and 
nasty  disciples  ;  how  can  those  who  want  to  abolish 
the  poor-rates  or  to  prevent  the  poor  from  marrying; 
how  can  this  at  once  stupid  and  conceited  tribe  look 
the  labouring  man  in  the  face,  while  they  call  upon 
him  to  take  up  arms,  to  risk  his  life,  in  defence  of  the 
land  ?  Grant  that  the  poor-laws  are  just ;  grant  that 
every  necessitous  creature  has  a  right  to  demand  re- 
lief from  some  parish  or  other ;  grant  that  the  law 
has  most  effectually  provided  that  every  man  shall 
be  protected  against  the  effects  of  hunger  and  of  cold; 
grant  these,  and  then  the  law  which  compels  the 
man  without  house  or  land  to  take  up  arms  and 
risk  his  life  in  defence  of  the  country,  is  a  perfectly 
just  law;  but,  deny  to  the  necessitous  that  legal  and 
certain  relief  of  which  I  have  been  speaking;  abolish 
the  poor  laws;  and  then  this  military-service  law  be- 
comes an  act  of  a  character  such  as  I  defy  any  pen 
or  tongue  to  describe. 

52.  To  say  another  word  upon  the  subject  is  cer- 
tainly unnecessary;  but  we  live  in  days  when  "stern 
necessity^  has  so  often  been  pleaded  for  most  fla- 
grant departures  from  the  law  of  the  land,  that  one 
cannot  help  asking,  whether  there  were  any  greater 
necessity  to  justify  ADDINGTON  for  his  deeds  of  1817 
than  there  would  be  to  justify  a  starving  man  in  tak- 
ing a  loaf?  ADDINGTON  pleaded  necessity,  and  he 
got  a  Bill  of  Indemnity.  And,  shall  a  starving  man 
be  hanged,  then,  if  he  take  a  loaf  to  save  himself 
from  dying  ?  When  Six  ACTS  were  before  the  Par- 
liament, the  proposers  and  supporters  of  them  never 


II.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  43 

pretended  that  they  did  not  embrace  a  most  dreadful 
departure  from  the  ancient  laws  of  the  land.  In  an- 
swer to  LORD  HOLLAND,  who  had  dwelt  forcibly  on 
this  departure  from  the  ancient  law,  the  Lord  Chan- 
cellor, unable  to  contradict  LORD  HOLLAND,  exclaim- 
ed, "  Solus  populi  suprema  lex"  that  is  to  gay  "  The 
salvation  of  the  people  is  the  first  law"  Well,  then, 
if  the  salvation  of  the  people  be  the  first  law,  the  sal- 
vation of  life  is  really  and  bona  fide  the  salvation  of 
the  people ;  and,  if  the  ordinary  laws  may  be  dis- 
pensed with,  in  order  to  obviate  a  possible  and  specu- 
lative danger,  surely  they  may  be  dispensed  with,  in 
cases  where  to  dispense  with  them  is  visibly,  demon- 
strably,  notoriously,  necessary  to  the  salvation  of  the 
lives  of  the  people:  surely,  bread  is  as  necessary  to 
the  lips  of  the  starving  man,  as  a  new  law  could  be 
necessary  to  prevent  either  house  of  parliament  from 
being  brought  into  contempt;  and  surely,  therefore, 
Salus  populi  suprema  lex  may  come  from  the  lips  of 
the  famishing  people  with  as  much  propriety  as  they 
came  from  those  of  the  Lord  Chancellor! 

53.  Again,  however,  I  observe,  and  with  this  I  con- 
clude, that  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  adhere  to 
the  poor-laws  which  we  have ;  that  the  poor  have 
nothing  to  do,  but  to  apply  to  the  overseer,  or  to  ap- 

Eeal  from  him  to  the  magistrate ;  that  the  magistrate 
as  nothing  to  do  but  duly  to  enforce  the  law ;  and  that 
the  government  has  nothing  to  do,  in  order  to  secure 
the  peace  of  the  country,  amidst  all  the  difficulties 
that  are  approaching,  great  and  numerous  as  they  are; 
that  it  has  nothing  to  do,  but  to  enjoin  on  the  magis- 
trates to  do  their  duty  according  to  our  excellent  law; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  the  government  ought  to  dis- 
courage, by  all  the  means  in  their  power,  all  projects 
for  maintaining  the  poor  by  any  other  than  legal 
means;  to  discourage  all  begging-box  affairs;  all 
miserable  expedients ;  and  also  to  discourage,  and, 
where  it  is  possible,  fix  its  mark  of  reprobation  upon 
all  those  detestable  projectors,  who  are  hatching 
schemes  for  what  is  called,  in  the  blasphemous  slang 
of  the  day5  "  checking  the  surplus  population,"  who, 


44  COBBETT'S  [No. 

are  hatching  schemes  for  preventing  the  labouring 
people  from  having"  children  :  who  are  ahout  spread- 
ing their  nasty  beastly  publications  ;  who  are  hatch- 
ing schemes  of  emigration;  and  who,  in  short,  seem 
to  be  doing  every-thing  in  their  power  to  widen  the 
fearful  breach  that  has  already  been  made  between 
the  poor  and  the  rich.  The  government  has  nothing 
to  do  but  to  cause  the  law  to  be  honestly  enforced; 
and  then  we  shall  see  no  starvation,  and  none  of 
those  dreadful  conflicts  which  the  fear  of  want,  as 
well  as  actual  want,  never  fail  to  produce.  The  bare 
thought  of  forced  emigration  to  a  foreign  state,  includ- 
ing, as  it  must,  a  transfer  of  all  allegiance,  which  is 
contrary  to  the  fundamental  laws  of  England ;  or, 
exposing  every  emigrating  person  to  the  danger  of 
committing  high  treason;  the  very  thought  of  such 
a  measure,  having  become  necessary  in  England,  is 
enough  to  make  an  Englishman  mad.  But,  of  these 
projects,  these  -scandalous  nasty  beastly  and  shame- 
less projects,  we  shall  have  time  to  speak  hereafter ; 
and  in  the  mean  while,  1  take  my  leave  of  you,  for 
the  present,  by  expressing  my  admiration  of  the  sen- 
sible and  spirited  conduct  of  the  people  of  STOCK- 
PORT,  when  an  attempt  was,  on  the  5th  of  September, 
made  to  cheat  them  into  an  address,  applauding  the 
conduct  vf  the  Ministers  !  What !  Had  the  people 
•of  STOCKPORT  so  soon  forgotten  16^  of  August ! 
Had  they  so  soon  forgotten  their  townsman,  JOSEPH 
SWAN  !  If  they  had,  they  would  have  deserved  to 
perish  to  all  eternity.  Oh,  no!  It  was  a  proposition 
very  premature :  it  will  be  quite  soon  enough  for  the 
good  and  sensible  and  spirited  fellows  of  STOCKPORT; 
quite  soon  enough  to  address  the  Ministers,  when  the 
Ministers  shall  have  proposed  a  repeal  of  the  several 
Jubilee  measures,  called  Ellenborough's  law;  the 
poacher-transporting  law ;  the  sun-set  and  sun-rise 
transportation  law;  the  tread-mill  law;  the  select- 
vestry  law;  the  Sunday-toll  laws;  the  new  trespass 
law;  the  new  treason  law;  the  seducing-soldier- 
hanging  law;  the  new  apple-felony  law;  the  SIX 
ACTS;  and  a  great  number  of  others^  passed  in  the 


III.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  45 

reign  of  Jubilee.  Q,uite  soon  enough  to  applaud,  that 
is,  for  the  sensible  people  of  STOCKPORT  to  applaud, 
the  Ministers,  when  those  Ministers  have  proposed 
to  repeal  these  laws,  and,  also,  to  repeal  the  malt  tax, 
and  those  other  taxes,  which  take,  even  from  the 
pauper,  one  half  of  what  the  parish  gives  him  to 
keep  the  breath  warm  in  his  body.  Quite  soon  enough 
to  applaud  the  Ministers,  when  they  have  done  these 
things  ;  and  when  in  addition  to  all  these,  they  shall 
have  openly  proposed  a  radical  reform  of  the  Com- 
mons  House  of  Parliament.  Leaving  them  to  do 
this  as  soon  as  they  like,  and  trusting,  that  you  will 
never,  on  any  account,  applaud  them  until  they  do  it, 
1,  expressing  here  my  best  thanks  to  Mr.  BLACKSHAW, 
who  defeated  the  slavish  scheme  at  Stockport,  remain. 
Your  faithful  friend, 

and  most  obedient  servant, 

WM.  COBBETT. 


NUMBER  III. 

Ilurstbourne  T arrant  (called  Uphusband,) 
Hants,  13th  October,  1826. 

MY  EXCELLENT  FRIENDS, 

54.  In  the  foregoing  Numbers,  I  have  shown,  that 
men  can  never  be  so  poor  as  to  have  no  rights  at  all : 
and  that,  in  England,  they  have  a  legal,  as  well  as  a 
natural,  right  to  be  maintained,  if  they  be  destitute 
of  other  means,  out  of  the  lands,  or  other  property, 
of  the  rich.  But,  it  is  an  interesting  question,  HOW 
THERE  CAME  TO  BE  SO  MUCH  POVERTY 
AND  MISERY  IN  ENGLAND.  This  is  a  very^ 
interesting  question ;  for,  though  it  is  the  doom  of 
man,  that  he  shall  never  be  certain  of  any-thing,  and 
that  he  shall  never  be  beyond  the  reach  of  calamity; 
though  there  always  has  been,  and  always  will  be, 
poor  people  in  every  nation  ;  though  this  circumstance 
of  poverty  is  inseparable  from  the  means  which  up- 


46  COBBETT'S  [No. 

hold  communities  of  men ;  though,  without  poverty, 
there  could  be  no  charity,  and  none  of  those  feelings, 
those  offices,  those  acts,  and  those  relationships,  which 
are  connected  with  charity,  and  which  form  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  the  cement  of  civil  society :  yet, 
notwithstanding  these  things,  there  are  bounds  beyond 
which  the  poverty  of  the  people  cannot  go,  without 
becoming  a  thing  to  complain  of,  and  to  trace  to  the 
Government  as  a  fault.  Those  bounds  have  been 
passed,  in  England,  long  and  long  ago.  England 
was  always  famed  for  many  things ;  but  especially 
for  its  good  living ;  that  is  to  say,  for  the  plenty 
in  which  the  whole  of  the  people  lived ;  for  the 
abundance  of  good  clothing  and  good  food  which  they 
had.  It  was  always,  ever  since  it  bore  the  name 
of  England,  the  richest  and  most  powerful  and  most 
admired  country  in  Europe ;  but,  its  good  living,  its 
superiority  in  this  particular  respect,  was  proverbial 
amongst  all  who  knew,  or  who  had  heard  talk  of,  the 
English  nation.  Good  God  !  How  changed  !  Now, 
the  very  worst  fed  and  worst  clad  people  upon  the 
face  of  the  earth,  those  of  Ireland  only  excepted. 
How,  then,  did  this  horrible,  this  disgraceful,  this 
cruel  poverty  come  upon  this  once  happy  nation? 
This,  my  good  friends  of  Preston,  is,  to  us  all,  a 
most  important  question ;  and,  now  let  us  endeavour 
to  obtain  a  full  and  complete  answer  to  it. 

55.  POVERTY  is,  after  all,  the  great  badge,  the 
never-failing  badge,  of  slavery.  Bare  bones  and  rags 
are  the  true  marks  of  the  real  slave.  What  is  the 
object  of  Government?  To  cause  men  to. live  hap- 
pily- They  cannot  be  happy  without  a  sufficiency  of 
food  and  of  raiment.  Good  government  means  a 
state  of  things  in  which  the  main  body  are  well  fed 
and  well  clothed.  It  is  the  chief  business  of  a  gov- 
ernment to  take  care,  that  one  part  of  the  people  do 
not  cause  the  other  part  to  lead  miserable  lives. 
There  can  be  no  morality,  no  virtue,  no  sincerity,  no 
honesty,  amongst  a  people  continually  suffering  from 
want ;  and,  it  is  cruel,  in  the  last  degree,  to  punish 
such  people  for  almost  any  sort  of  crime,  which  is. 


HI.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  47 

in  fact,  not  crime  of  the  heart,  not  crime  of  the  per- 
petrator, but  the  crime  of  his  all-controlling  necessi-  Jb 
ties. — To  what  degree  the  main  body  of  the  people, 
in  England,  are  now  poor  and  miserable ;  how  deplo- 
rably wretched  they  now  are ;  this  we  know  but  too 
well ;  and  now,  we  will  see  what  was  their  state  be- 
fore this  vaunted  "  REFORMATION."  I  shall  be  very 
particular  to  cite  my  authorities  here.  I  will  infer 
nothing ;  I  will  give  no  "  estimate ;"  but  refer  to  au~ 
thorities,  such  as  no  man  can  call  in  question,  such 
as  no  man  can  deny  to  be  proofs  more  complete  than 
if  founded  on  oaths  of  credible'  witnesses,  taken 
before  a  judge  and  jury.  I  shall  begin  with  the 
account  which  FORTESCUE  gives  of  the  state  and 
manner  of  living  of  the  English,  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  VI.;  that  is,  in  the  15th  century,  when  the 
Catholic  Church  was  in  the  height  of  its  glory.  FOR- 
TESCUE was  Lord  Chief  Justice  of  England  for  nearly 
twenty  years ;  he  was  appointed  Lord  High  Chan- 
cellor by  Henry  VI.  Being  in  exile,  in  France,  in 
consequence  of  the  wars  between  the  Houses  of 
York  and  Lancaster,  and  the  King's  son,  Prince 
Edward,  being  also  in  exile  with  him,  the  Chancel- 
ler  wrote  a  series  of  Letters,  addressed  to  the  Prince, 
to  explain  to  him  the  nature  and  effects  of  the  Laws 
of  England,  and  to  induce  him  to  study  them  and 
uphold  them.  This  work,  which  was  written  in 
Latin,  is  called  De  Laudibus  Legum  Anglicz  ;  or, 
PRAISE  OF  THE  LAWS  OF  ENGLAND.  This  book  was. 
many  years  ago,  translated  into  English,  and  it  is  a 
book  of  Law-Authority,  quoted  frequently  in  our 
courts  of  this  day.  No  man  can  doubt  the  truth  of 
facts  related  in  such  a  work.  It  was  a  work  written  . 
by  a  famous  lawyer  for  a  prince ;  it  was  intended  to 
be  read  by  other  contemporary  lawyers,  and  also  by 
all  lawyers  in  future.  The  passage  that  I  am  about  to 
quote,  relating  to  the  state  of  the  English,  was  purely 
incidental;  it  was  not  intended  to  answer  any  tem- 
porary purpose.  It  must  have  been  a  true  account. — 
The  Chancellor,  after  speaking  generally  of  the 
nature  of  the  laws  of  England,  and  of  the  difference 
18 


48  COBBETT'S  [No. 

between  them  and  the  laws  of  France,  proceeds  to 
show  the  difference  in  their  effects,  by  a  description 
of  the  state  of  the  French  people,  and  then  by  a  de- 
scription of  the  state  of  the  English.  His  words, 
words  that,  as  I  transcribe  them,  make  my  cheeks 
burn  with  shame,  are  as  follows :  "  Besides  all  this, 
the  inhabitants  of  France  give  every  year  to  their 
King  the  fourth  part  of  all  their  wines,  the  growth  of 
that  year,  every  vintner  gives  the  fourth  penny  of 
what  he  makes  of  his  wine  by  sale.  And  all  the 
towns  and  boroughs  pay  to  the  King  yearly  great 
sums  of  money,  which  are  assessed  upon  them,  for 
the  expenses  of  his  men  at  arms.  So  that  the  King's 
troops,  which  are  always  considerable,  are  substituted 
and  paid  yearly  by  those  common  people,  who  live  in 
the  villages,  boroughs,  and  cities.  Another  grievance 
is,  every  village  constantly  finds  and  maintains  two 
cross-bow-men,  at  the  least;  some  find  more,  well 
arrayed  in  all  their  accoutrements,  to  serve  the  King 
in  his  wars,  as  often  as  he  pleaseth  to  call  them  out, 
which  is  frequently  done.  Without  any  considera- 
tion had  of  these  things,  other  very  heavy  taxes  are 
assessed  yearly  upon  every  village  within  the  king- 
dom, for  the  King's  service ;  neither  is  there  ever  any 
intermission  or  abatement  of  taxes.  Exposed  to  these 
and  other  calamities,  the  peasants  live  in  great  hard- 
ship and  misery.  Their  constant  drink  is  water, 
neither  do  they  taste,  throughout  the  year,  any  other 
liquor,  unless  upon  some  extraordinary  times,  or  fes- 
tival days.  Their  clothing  consists  of  frocks,  or  little 
short  jerkins,  made  of  canvass,  no  better  than  com- 
mon sackcloth  ;  they  do  not  wear  any  woollens,  ex- 
cept of  the  coarsest  sort;  and  that  only  in  the  gar- 
ment under  their  frocks ;  nor  do  they  wear  any  trowse, 
but  from  the  knees  upwards ;  their  legs  being  exposed 
and  naked.  The  women  go  barefoot,  except  on  holi- 
days. They  do' not  eat  Jiesh,  except  it  be  the  fat  of 
bacon,  and  that  in  very  small  quantities,  with  which 
they  make  a  soup.  Of  other  sorts,  either  boiled  or 
roasted,  they  do  not  so  much  as  taste,  unless  it  be  of 
the  inwards  and  offals  of  sheep  and  bullocks,  and  the 


III.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  49 

like  which  are  killed,  for  the  use  of  the  better  sort  of 
people,  and  the  merchants;  for  whom  also  quails, 
partridges,  hares,  and  the  like,  are  reserved,  upon 
pain  of  the  galiies  /  as  for  their  poultry,  the  soldiers 
consume  them,  so  that  scarce  the  eggs,  slight  as  they 
are,  are  indulged  them,  by  way  of  a  dainty.  And  if 
it  happen  that  a  man  is  observed  to  thrive  in  the  world, 
and  become  rich,  he  is  presently  assessed  to  the  King^s 
tax,  proportionably  more  than  his  poorer  neighbours, 
whereby  he  is  soon  reduced  to  a  level  with  the  rest" 
Then  comes  his  description  of  the  ENGLISH,  at  the 
same  time;  those  "priest-ridden"  English,  whom 
CHALMERS  and  HUME,  and  the  rest  of  that  tribe,  would 
fain  have  us  believe,  were  a  mere  band  of  wretched 
beggars.—"  The  King  of  England  cannot  alter  the 
laws,  or  make  new  ones,  without  the  express  consent 
of  the  whole  kingdom  in  Parliament  assembled. 
Every  inhabitant  is  at  his  liberty  fully  to  use  and 
enjoy  whatever  his  farm  produceth,  the  fruits  of  the 
earth,  the  increase  of  his  flock,  and  the  like :  all  the 
improvements  he  makes,  whether  by  his  own  proper 
industry,  or  of  those  he  retains  in  his  service,  are  his 
own,  to  use  and  enjoy,  without  the  let,  interruption, 
or  denial  of  any.  If  he  be  in  anywise  injured  or 
oppressed,  he  shall  have  his  amends  and  satisfactions 
against  the  party  offending.  Hence  it  is  that  the  in- 
habitants are  rich  in  gold,  silver,  and  in  all  the  neces- 
saries and  conveniences  of  life.  They  drink  no  water, 
unless  at  certain  times,  upon,  a  religious  score,  and 
by  way  of  doing  penance.  They  are  fed,  in  great 
abundance,  with  all  soi*ts  of  flesh  and  fish,  of  which 
they  have  plenty  every-where;  they  are  clothed 
throughout  in  good  woollens;  their  bedding  and  other 
furniture  in  their  houses  are  of  wool,  and  that  in 
great  store.  They  are  also  well  provided  with  all 
other  sorts  of  household  goods  and  necessary  imple- 
ments for  husbandry.  Every  one,  according  to  his 
rank,  hath  all  things  which  conduce  to  make  life  easy 
and  happy." — Go,  and  read  this  to  the  poor  souls, 
who  are  now  eating  sea-weed  in  Ireland ;  who  are 
detected  in  robbing  the  pig-troughs  in  Yorkshire; 


50"  COBBETT'S  [No. 

who  are  eating  horse-flesh  and  grains  (draff)  in  Lan- 
cashire and  Cheshire ;  who  are  harnessed  like  horses, 
and  drawing  gravel  in  Hampshire  and  Sussex ;  who 
have  3d.  a  day  allowed  them  by  the  magistrates  in 
Norfolk ;  who  are,  all  over  England,  worse  fed  than 
the  felons  in  the  jails.  Go,  and  tell  them,  when  they 
raise  their  hands  from  the  pig-trough,  or  from  the 
grains-tub,  and,  with  their  dirty  tongues,  cry  "  No 
Popery;"  go,  read  to  the  degraded  and  deluded 
wretches,  this  account  of  the  state  of  their  Catholic 
forefathers,  who  lived  under  what  is  impudently 
called  "  Popish  superstition  and  tyranny"  and  in 
those  times  which  we  have  the  audacity  to  call  "  the 
dark  ages." — Look  at  the  then  picture  of  the  French; 
and,  Protestant  Englishmen,  if  you  have  the  capacity 
of  blushing  left,  blush  at  the  thought  of  how  precisely 
that  picture  fits  the  English  now  !  Look  at  all  the 
parts  of  the  picture  ;  the^borf,  the  raiment^  the  game! 
Good  God !  If  any  one  had  told  the  old  Chancellor, 
that  the  day  would  come,  when  this  picture,  and  even 
a  picture  more  degrading  to  human  nature,  would  fit 
his  own  boasted  country,  what  would  he  have  said? 
What  would  he  have  said,  if  he  had  been  told,  that 
the  time  was  to  come,  v/hen  the  soldier,  in  England, 
would  have  more  than  twice,  nay,  more  than  thrice, 
the  sum  allowed  to  the  day-labouring  man;  when 
potatoes  would  be  carried  to  the  field  as  the  only  food 
of  the  ploughman ;  when  soup-shops  would  be  open 
to  feed  the  English ;  and  when  the  Judges,  sitting  on 
that  very  Bench  on  which  he  himself  had  sitten  for 
twenty  years,  would  (as  in  the  case  of  last  year  of 
the  complaints  against  Magistrates  at  NORTHALLER- 
TON)  declare  that  BREAD  AND  WATER  were  the  general 
food  of  working  people  in  England?  What  would 
he  have  said  ?  Why,  if  he  had  been  told,  that  there 
was  to  be  a  "  REFORMATION,"  accompanied  by  a  total 
devastation  of  Church  and  Poor  property,  upheld  by 
wars,  creating  an  enormous  Debt  and  enormous  taxes, 
and  requiring  a  constantly  standing  army :  if  he  had 
been  told  this,  he  would  have  foreseen  our  present 
£tate?  and  would  have  wept  for  his  country ;  but,  if 


III.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  51 

he  had,  in  addition,  been  told,  that,  even  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  suffering,  we  should  still  have  the  ingrati- 
tude and  the  baseness  to  cry  "  No  Popery,"  and  the 
injustice  and  the  cruelty  to  persecute  those  English- 
men and  Irishmen,  who  adhered  to  the  faith  of  their 
pious,  moral,  brave,  free  and  happy  fathers,  he  would 
have  said,  "  God's  will  be  done :  let  them  suffer." — 
But,  it  may  be  said,  that  it  was  not,  then,  the  Cath- 
olic Church,  but  the  Laws,  that  made  the  English  so 
happy ;  for,  the  French  had  that  Church  as  well  as 
the  English.  Aye!  But,  in  England,  the  Church 
was  the  very  basis  of  the  laws.  The  very  first  clause 
of  MAGNA  CHARTA  provided  for  the  stability  of  its 
property  and  rights.  ..4  provision  for  the  indigent,  an 
effectual  provision,  was  made  by  the  laws  that  related 
to  the  Church  and  its  property;  and  this  was  not  the 
case  in  France ;  and  never  was  the  case  in  any  coun- 
try but  this :  so  that  the  English  people  lost  more  by 
a  "  Reformation"  than  any  other  people  could  have 
lost. — Fortescue's  authority  would,  of  itself,  be  enough; 
but,  I  am  not  to  stop  with  it.  WHITE,  the  late  Rector 
of  SELBOURNE,  in  Hampshire,  gives,  in  his  History 
of  that  once-famous  village,  an  extract  from  a  record, 
stating  that  for  disorderly  conduct,  men  were  pun- 
ished by  being  "compelled  to  fast  a  fortnight  on  bread 
and  beer!"  This  was  about  the  year  1380,  in  the 
rei^n  of  RICHARD  II.  Oh  !  miserable  " dark  ages!" 
This  fact  must  be  true.  WHITE  had  no  purpose  to 
answer.  His  mention  of  the  fact,  or  rather  his  tran- 
script from  the  record,  is  purely  incidental;  and 
trifling  as  the  fact  is,  it  is  conclusive  as  to  the  gen- 
eral mode  of  living  in  those  happy  days.  Go,  tell  the 
harnessed  gravel-drawers,  in  Hampshire,  to  cry  "  No 
Popery;"  for,  that,  if  the  Pope  be  not  put  down,  he 
may,  in  time,  compel  them  to  fast  on  bread  and  beer, 
instead  of  suffering  them  to  continue  to  regale  them- 
selves on  nice  potatoes  and  pure  water. — But,  let  us 
come  to  Acts  of  Parliament,  and,  first,  to  the  Act 
above  mentioned  of  King  EDWARD  III.  That  Act 
fixes  the  price  of  meat.  After  naming  the  four  sorts 
of  meat,  beef,  pork,  mutton^  and  veal,  the  preamble 
18* 


52  COBBETT'S  [No. 

has  these  words :  "These  being  THE  FOOD  OF 
THE  POORER  SORT."  This  is  conclusive.  It 
is  an  incidental  mention  of  a  fact.  It  is  an  Act  of 
Parliament.  It  must  have  been  true;  and,  it  is  a  fact 
that  we  know  well,  that  even  the  Judges  have  de- 
clared from  the  Bench,  that  bread  alone  is  now  the 
food  of  the  poorer  sort.  What  do  we  want  more  than 
this  to  convince  us,  that  the  main  body  of  the  people 
have  been  impoverished  by  the  "  Reformation  ?" — 
But  I  will  prove,  by  other  Acts  of  Parliament,  this 
Act  of  Parliament  to  have  spoken  truth.  These 
Acts  declare  what  the  wages  of  workmen  shall  be. 
There  are  several  such  Acts,  but  one  or  two  may  suf- 
fice. The  Act  of  23d  of  EDW.  III.  fixes  the  wages, 
without  food,  as  follows.  There  are  many  other 
things  mentioned,  but  the  following  will  be  enough 
for  our  purpose. 

s.    d. 

A  woman  hay-making,  or  weeding  corn,  for  the  day  0     1 
A  man  filling  dung-cart    --------        03^ 

A  reaper        -    -    -t 04 

Mowing  an  acre  of  grass 06 

Thrashing  a  quarter  of  Wheat  ------        04 

The  price  of  shoes,  cloth,  and  of  provisions,  through- 
out the  time  that  this  law  continued  in  force,  was  as 
follows : — 

L.  s.   d. 

A  pair  of  shoes ---004 

Russet  broad-cloth  the  yard 01     1 

A  stall-fed  ox        -     -     - 140 

A  grass-fed  ox 0  16     0 

A  fat  sheep  unshorn 018 

A  fat  sheep  shorn 012 

A  fat  hog  2  years  old      -     -' 034 

A  fat  goose 0     0     2j 

Ale,  the  gallon,  by  proclamation  -----001 

Wheat  the  quarter 034 

White  wine  the  gallon ...006 

Red  wine 004 

These  prices  are  taken  from  the  PRECIOSUM  of  BISHOP 
FLEETWOOD,  who  took  them  from  the  accounts  kept 


III.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  53 

by  the  bursers  of  convents.  All  the  world  knows, 
that  FLEETWOOD'S  book  is  of  undoubted  authority. — 
We  may  then  easily  believe,  that  "  beef,  pork,  mutton, 
and  veal,"  were  "  the  food  of  the  poorer  sort"  when, 
a  dung-cart  filler  had  more  than  the  price  of  a  fat 
goose  and  a  half  for  a  day^s  work^  and  when  a  woman 
was  allowed,  for  a  day's  weeding,  the  price  of  a  quart 
of  red  wine!  Two  yards  of  the  cloth  made  a  coat 
for  the  shepherd;  and,  as  it  cost  2s.  2d.,  the  reaper 
would  earn  it  in  6$  days;  and,  the  dung-cart  man 
would  earn  very  nearly  a  pair  of  shoes  every  day  ! 
this  dung-cart  filler  would  earn  a  fat  shorn  sheep  in 
four  days  ;  he  would  earn  a  fat  hog,  two  years  old, 
in  twelve  days ;  he  would  earn  a  grass-fed  ox  in 
twenty  days ;  so  that  we  may  easily  believe,  that 
"  beef^  pork,  and  mutton,"  were  "  the  food  of  the 
poorer  sort."  And,  mind,  this  was  "  a  priest-ridden 
people;"  a  people  "buried  in  Popish  superstition!" 
In  our  days  of  "  Protestant  light"  and  of  u  mental 
enjoyment,"  the  "poorer  sort"  are  allowed  by  the 
Magistrates  of  Norfolk,  3d.  a  day  for  a  single  man- 
able  to  work.  That  is  to  say,  a  half-penny  less  than 
the  Catholic  dung-cart  man  had ;  and  that  3d.  will 
get  the  "  No  Popery"  gentleman  about  six  ounces  of 
old  ewe-mutton,  while  the  Popish  dung-cart  man  got, 
for  his  day,  rather  more  than  the  quarter  of  a  fat 
sheep. — But,  the  popish  people  might  work  harder 
than  "  enlightened  Protestants."  They  might  do  more 
work  in  a  day.  This  is  contrary  to  all  the  assertions 
of  the  feelosophers ;  for  they  insist,  that  the  Catholic 
religion  made  people  idle.  But,  to  set  this  matter 
at  rest,  let  us  look  at  the  price  of  the  job-labour;  at 
the  mowing  by  the  acre,  and  at  the  thrashing  of  wheat 
by  the  quarter;  and  let  us  see  how  these  wages  are 
now,  compared  with  the  price  of  food.  I  have  no 
parliamentary  authority  since  the  year  1821,  when 
a  report  was  printed  by  order  of  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, containing  the  evidence  of  Mr.  ELLMAN,  of 
Sussex,  as  to  wages,  and  of  Mr.  GEORGE,  of  Norfolk, 
as  to  price  of  wheat.  The  report  was  dated  18th 
June,  1821.  The  accounts  are  for  20  years,  on  an 


54  COBBETTS  [No. 

average,  from  1800  inclusive.  We  will  now  proceed 
to  see  how  the  "  popish,  priest-ridden"  Englishman 
stands  in  comparison  with  the  "  No  Popery"  Eng- 
lishman. 

POPISH  MAN.  NO  POPERY  MAN. 

8.      d,  S.      d. 

Mowing  an  acre  of  grass  -    -    0    6  3    7| 

Thrashing  a  quarter  of  Wheat    04  40 

Here  are  "  waust  improvements,  Mau'm !"  But,  now 
let  us  look  at  the  relative  price  of  the  wheat,  which 
the  labourer  had  to  purchase  with  his  wages.  We 
have  seen,  that  the  "  popish  superstition  slave"  had 
to  givejivepence  a  bushel  for  his  wheat,  and  the  evi- 
dence of  Mr.  GEORGE  states,  that  the  "enlightened 
Protestant"  had  to  give  10  shilling's  a  bushel  for  his 
wheat ;  that  is  24  times  as  much  as  the  "  popish/bo/," 
who  suffered  himself  to  be  "priest-ridden."  So  that 
the  "  enlightened''''  man,  in  order  to  make  him  as  well 
off  as  the  "  rfarfc-ages"  man  was,  ought  to  receive 
twelve  shillings,  instead  of  3s.  7f-rf.  for  mowing  an 
acre  of  grass ;  and  he,  in  like  manner,  ou^ht  to  re- 
ceive, for  thrashing  a  quarter  of  wheat,  eight  shil- 
lings, instead  of  the  four  shillings  which  he  does 
receive.  If  we  had  the  records,  we  should  doubtless 
find,  that  IRELAND  was  in  the  same  state, 

56.  There  !  That  settles  the  matter  as  to  ancient 
good  living.  Now,  as  to  the  progress  of  poverty  and 
misery,  amongst  the  working  people,  during  the  last 
half  century,  take  these  facts ;  in  the  year  1771,  that 
is,  55  years  ago,  ARTHUR  YOUNG,  who  was  afterwards 
Secretary  to  the  Board  of  Agriculture,  published  a 
work  on  the  state  of  the  agriculture  of  the  country, 
in  which  he  gave  the  allowance  for  the  keeping  -of  a 
farm-labourer,  his  wife  and  three  children,  which 
allowance,  reckoning  according  to  the  present  mo- 
ney-price of  the  articles  which  he  allows  amounted 
to  13s.  Id.  He  put  the  sum,  at  what  he  deemed  the 
lowest  possible  sum,  on  which  the  people  could  exist. 
Alas !  we  shall  find,  that  they  can  be  made  to  exist 
upon  little  more  than  one-half  of  this  sum ! 


111.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  55 

57.  This  allowance  of  Mr.  ARTHUR  YOUNG  was 
made,  observe,  in  1771,  which  was  before  the  Old 
American  War  took  place.     That  war  made  some 
famous  fortunes  for  admirals  and  commodores  and 
contractors  and  pursers  and  generals  and  commissa- 
ries ;  but,  it  was  not  the  Americans,  the  French,  nor 
the  Dutch,  that  gave  the  money  to  make  these  for- 
tunes.    They  came  out  of  English  taxes;  and  the 
heaviest  part  of  those  taxes  fell  upon  the  working 
people,  who,  when  they  were  boasting  of  "  victories" 
and  rejoicing  that  the  "JACK  TARS"  had  got  "prize- 
money,"  little  dreamed  that  these  victories  were  .pur- 
chased by  them,  and  that  they  paid  fifty  pounds  for 
every  crown  that  sailors  got  in  prize-money  !  In  short, 
this  American  war  caused  a  great  mass  of  new  taxes 
to  be  laid  on,  and  the  people  of  England  became  a 
great  deal  poorer  than  they  ever  had  been  before. 
During  that-  war,  they  BEGAN  TO  EAT  POTA- 
TOES, as  something  to  "save  bread."    The  poorest 
of  the  people,  the  very  poorest  of  them,  refused,  for  a 
long  while,  to  use  them  in  this  way  ;  and  even  when 
I  was  ten  years  old,  which  was  just  about  fifty  years 
ago;  the  poor  people  would  not  eat  potatoes,  except 
with  meat,  as  they  would  cabbages,  or  carrots,  or  any 
other  moist  vegetable.     But,  by  the  end  of  the  Ame- 
can  war,  their  stomachs  had  come  to  !     By  slow  de- 
grees they  had  been  reduced  to  swallow  this  pig-meat, 
(and  bad  pig-meat  too,)  not,  indeed,  without  grum- 
bling; but  to  swallow  it;  to  be  reduced,  thus,  many 
degrees  in  the  scale  of  animals. 

58.  At  the  end  of  twenty-four  years  from  the  .date 
of  ARTHUR  YOUNG'S  allowance,  the  poverty  and  de- 
gradation of  the   English   people   had  made   great 
strides.  We  were  now  in  the  year  1795,  and  a  new  war, 
and  a  new  series  of  "  victories  and  prizes"  had  begun. 
But  who  it  was  that  suffered  for  these,  out  of  whose 
blood  and  flesh  and  bones  they  came,  the  allowance 
now  (in  1795)  made  to  the  poor  labourers  and  their 
families  will  tell.     There  was,  in 'that  year,  a  TA- 
BLE, or  SCALE,  of  allowance,  framed  by  the  Magis- 
trates of  Berkshire.     This  is,  by  no  means,  a  hard 


56  GOBBET'S  [NO. 


county;  and  therefore  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose, 
that  the  scale  was  as  good  a  one  for  the  poor  as  any 
in  England.  According  to  this  scale,  which  was 
printed  and  published,  and  also  acted  upon  for  years, 
the  weekly  allowance,  for  a  man,  his  wife  and  three 
children,  was,  according  to  present  money-prices,  Us. 
4d.  Thus  it  had,  in  the  space  of  twenty-four  years, 
fell  from  13s.  Id.  to  Us.  4d.  Thus  were  the  people 
brought  to  the  pig-meat  !  Food,  fit  for  men,  they 
could  not  have  with  11s.  4d.  a  week  for  five  per- 
sons. 

59.  One  would  have  thought,  that  to  make  a  hu- 
man being  live  upon  4d.  a  day,  and  fiudfuel,  clothing-, 
rent,  washing,  and  bedding',  out  of  tne  4d.,  besides 
eating  and  drinking,  was  impossible  ;  and  one  would 
have  thought  it  impossible  for  any-thing  not  of  hellish 
birth  and  breeding,  to  entertain  a  wish  to  make  poor 
creatures,  and  our  neighbours  too,  exist  in  such  a 
state  of  horrible  misery  and  degradation  as  the  la- 
bourers of  England  were  condemned  to  by  this  scale 
of  1795.  Alas  !  this  was  happiness  and  honour;  this 
was  famous  living  ;  this  11s.  4d.  a  week  was  luxury 
and  feasting,  compared  to  what  we  NOW  BE- 
HOLD !  For  now  the  allowance,  according  to  pre- 
sent money-prices,  is  8s.  a  week  for  the  man,  his 
wife,  and  three  children;  that  is  to  say  2%d.  In 
words,  TWO  PENCE  AND  FIVE  SEVENTHS 
OF  ANOTHER  PENNY,  FOR  A  DAY  !  There, 
that  is  England  now!  That  is  what  the  base 
wretches,  who  are  fattening  upon  the  people's  la- 
bour, call  "  the  envy  of  surrounding  nations  and  the 
admiration  of  the  world."  This  is  what  SIR  FRAN- 
CIS BURDETT  applauds  ;  and  he  applauds  the  mean 
and  cruel  and  dastardly  ruffians,  whom  he  calls,  "the 
country  gentlemen  of  England,"  and  whose  genero- 
sity he  cries  up;  while  he  well  knows,  that  it  is  they 
(and  he  amongst  the  rest)  who  are  the  real  and  only 
cause  of  this  devil-like  barbarity,  which  (and  he 
well  knows  that  too)  could  not  possibly  be  practised 
without  the  constant  existence  and  occasional  em- 
ployrnent  of  that  species  of  force,  which  is  so  abhor- 


III.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  57 

rent  to  the  laws  of  England,  and  of  which  this  Bur- 
dett's  son  forms  a  part.  The  poor  creatures,  if  they 
complain;  if  their  hunger  make  them  cry  out,  are 
either  punished  by  even  harder  measures,  or  are 
slapped  into  prison.  Alas  !  the  jail  is  really  become 
a  place  of  relief j a  scene  of  comparative  good  living: 
hence  the  invention  of  the  tread-mill!  What  shall 
we  see  next '?  Workhouses,  badges,  hundred-houses, 
select-vestries,  tread-mills,  gravel-carts,  and  liar- 
ness  !  What  shall  we  see  next !  And  what  should 
we  see  at  last,  if  this  infernal  THING  could  conti- 
nue for  only  a  few  years  longer  ? 

60.  In  order  to  form  a  judgment  of  the  cruelty  of 
making  our  working  neighbours  live  upon  2  %d.  a  day  ; 
that  is  to  say  2d.  and  rather  more  than  a  halfpenny, 
let  us  see  what  the  surgeons  allow  in  the  hospitals, 
to  patients  with  broken  limbs,  who,  of  course,  have  no 
work  to  do,  and  who  cannot  even  take  any  exercise. 
In  GUY'S  HOSPITAL,  London,  the  daily  allowance  to 
patients,  having  simple  fractures,  is  this :  6  ounces 
of  meat ;  12  ounces  of  hread ;  1  pint  of  broth ;  2  quarts 
of  good  beer.     This  is  the  daily  allowance.     Then, 
in  addition  to  this,  the  same  patient  has  12  ounces  of 
butter  a  week.     These  articles,  for  a  week,  amount  to 
not  less  at  present  retail  prices  (and  those  are  the 
poor  man's  prices,)  than  6s.  9d.  a  week ;  while  the 
working  man  is  allowed  Is.  Id.  a  week !     For,  he 
cannot  and  he  will  not  see  his  wife  and  children  actu- 
ally drop  down  dead  with  hunger  before  his  face; 
and  this  is  Avhat  he  must  see,  if  he  take  to  himself 
more  than  bjifth  of  the  allowance  for  the  family. 

61.  Now,  pray,  observe,  that  surgeons,  and  parti- 
cularly those  eminent  surgeons  who  frame  rules  and 
regulations  for  great  establishments  like  that  of  Guy's 
Hospital,  are  competent  judges  of  what  nature  re- 
quires in  the  way  of  food  and  of  drink.     They  are, 
indeed,  not  only  competent  judges,  but  they  are  the 
best  of  judges:  they  know  precisely  what  is  neces- 
sary ;  and  having  the  power  to  order  the  proper  al- 
lowance, they  order  it.     If,  then,  they  mate  an  al- 
lowance like  that,  which  we  have  seen,  fa  a  person 


58  COBBETT'S  [No. 

who  is  under  a  regimen  for  a  broken  limb ;  to  a  person 
who  does  no  work,  and  who  is,  nine  times  out  of  ten, 
unable  to  take  any  exercise  at  all,  even  that  of  walk- 
ing about,  at  least  in  the  open  air ;  if  the  eminent  sur- 
geons of  London  deem  six  shillings  and  ninepence 
worth  of  victuals  and  drink,  a  week,  necessary  to 
such  a  patient ;  if  they  think  that  nature  calls  for 
so  much  in  such  a  case  ;  what  must  that  man  be 
made  of,  who  can  allow  to  a  working  man,  a  man 
fourteen  hours  every  day  in  the  open  air,  one  shil- 
ling' and  sevenpence  worth  of  victuals  and  drink  for 
the  week !  Let  me  not  however  ask  what  "  that 
man"  can  be  made  of;  for  it  is  a  monster  and  not  a 
man:  it  is  a  murderer  of  men:  not  a  murderer  with 
the  knife  or  the  pistol,  but  with  the  more  cruel  instru- 
ment of  starvation.  And  yet,  such  monsters  go  to 
church  and  to  meeting  ;  aye,  and  subscribe,  the  base 
hypocrites,  to  circulate  that  Bible  which  commands 
to  do  as  they  would  be  done  by,  and  which,  from  the 
first  chapter  to  the  last,  menaces  them  with  punish- 
ment, if  they  be  hard  to  the  poor,  the  fatherless,  the 
widow,  or  the  stranger  ! 

62  But,  not  only  is  the  patient,  in  a  hospital,  thus 
so  much  more  amply  fed  than  the  working  man  ;  the 
prisoners  in  the  jails  ;  aye,  even  the  convicted  felons, 
are  fed  better,  and  much  better,  .than  the  working  men 
now  are!  Here  is  a  fine  "  Old  England;"  that 
country  of  "  roast  beef  and  plumb  pudding :  "  that,  as 
the  tax-eaters  say  it  is,  "  envy  of  surrounding  nations 
and  admiration  of  the  world."  Aye ;  the  country 
WAS  all  these ;  but,  it  is  now  precisely  the  reverse 
of  them  all.  We  have  just  seen  that  the  honest  la- 
bouring man  is  allowed  2f  d.  a  day ;  and  that  will 
buy  him  a  pound  and  a  half  of  good  bread  a  day,  and 
no  more,  not  a  single  crumb  more.  This  is  all  he  has. 
Well  enough  might  the  Hampshire  Baronet,  SIR 
JOHN  POLLEN,  lately,  at  a  meeting  at  Andover,  call  the 
labourers  "poor  devils,"  and  say,  that  they  had 
"  scarcely  a  rag  to  cover  them  !  "  A  pound  and  a  half 
of  bread  a  day,  and  nothing  more,  and  that,  too,  to 
•work  upi>n  /  Now,  then,  how  fare  the  prisoners  in 


III.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  59 

the  jails?  Why,  if  they  be  CONVICTED  FELONS, 
they  are,  say  the  Berkshire  jail-regulations,  "to  have 
ONLY  BREAD  and  water,  with  vegetables  occasion- 
ally from  the  garden."  Here,  then,  they  are  already 
better  fed  than  the  honest  labouring  man.  Aye,  and 
this  is  not  all ;  for,  this  is  only  the  week-day  fare ;  for, 
they  are  to  have,  "on  Sundays,  SOME  MEAT 
and  broth  /"  Good  God  !  And  the  honest  working 
man  can  never,  never  smell  the  smell  of  meat !  This  is 
"  envy  of  surrounding  nations"  with  the  devil  to  it ! 
This  is  a  state  of  things  for  Burdett  to  applaud. 

63.  But  we  are  not  even  yet  come  to  a  sight  of  the 
depth  of  our  degradation.  These  Berkshire  jail-regu- 
lations make  provision  for  setting  the  convicted  pris- 
oners, in  certain  cases,  TO  WORK,  and,  they  say, 
"  if  the  surgeon  think  it  necessary,  the  WORK- 
ING PRISONERS  may  be  allowed  MEAT  AND 
BROTH  ON  WEEK-DAYS  ;"  and  on  Sundays, 
of  course  !  There  it  is  !  There  is  the  "  envy  and 
admiration  !"  There  is  the  state  to  which  Mr.  Pros- 
perity and  Mr.  Canning's  best  Parliament  has  brought 
us.  There  is  the  result  of  "  victories"  and  prize-mo- 
ney and  battles  of  Waterloo  and  of  English  ladies  kiss- 
ing, "Old  Blucher."  There  is  the  fruit,  the  natural 
fruit,  of  anti-jacobinism  and  battles  on  the  Serpentine 
River  and  jubilees  and  heaven-born  ministers  and 
sinking-funds  and  "  public  credit"  and  army  and  na- 
vy contracts.  There  is  the  fruit,  the  natural,  the 
nearly  (but  not  quite)  ripe  fruit  of  it  all :  the  CON- 
VICTED FELON  is,  if  he  do  not  work  at  all,  allow- 
ed, on  week-days,  some  vegetables  in  addition  to  his 
bread,  and,  on  Sundays,  both  meat  and  broth  ;  and,  if 
the  CONVICTED  FELON  work,  if  he  be  a 
WORKING  convicted  felon,  he  is  allowed  meat  and 
broth  all  the  week  round  ;  while,  hear  it  Burdett,  thou 
Berkshire  magistrate  !  hear  it,  all  ye  base  miscreants 
who  have  persecuted  men  because  they  sought  a  re- 
form !  The  WORKING  CONVICTED  FELON  is 
allowed  meat  and  broth  every  day  in  the  year,  while 
the  WORKING  HONEST  MAN  is  allowed  nothing 
but  dry  bread,  and  of  that  not  half  a  belly-full !  And 
19 


60  COBBETT'S  [No. 

yet  you  see  the  people  that  seem  surprised  that  crimes 
increase !  Very  strange,  to  be  sure ;  that  men  should 
like  to  work  upon  meat  and  broth  better  than  they 
like  to  work  upon  dry  bread  !  No  wonder  that  new 
jails  arise.  No  wonder  that  there  are  now  two  or  three 
or  four  or  five  jails  to  one  county,  and  that  as  much  is 
now  written  upon  "  prison  discipline"  as  upon  almost 
any  subject  that  is  going.  But,  why  so  good,  so  gen- 
erous, to  FELONS  ?  The  truth  is,  that  they  are  not 
fed  too  well;  for,  to  be  starved  is  no  part  of  their  sen- 
tence ;  and,  here  are  SURGEON'S  who  have  some- 
thing to  say  !  They  know  very  well  that  a  man  may 
be  murdered  by  keeping  necessary  food  from  him. 
Felons  are  not  apt  to  lie  down  and  die  quietly  for  want 
of  food.  The  jails  are  in  large  towns,  where  the  news 
of  any  cruelty  soon  gets  about.  So  that  the  felons 
have  many  circumstances  in  their  favour.  It  is  in  the 
villages,  the  recluse  villages,  where  the  greatest  cruel- 
ties are  committed . 

64.  Here,  then,  in  this  contrast  between  the  treat- 
ment of  the  WORKING  FELON  and  that  of  the 
WORKING  HONEST  MAN,  we  have  a  complete 
picture  of  the  present  state  of  England  ;  that  horrible 
state,  to  which,  by  slow  degrees,  this  once  happy 
country  has  been  brought ;  and,  I  should  now  proceed 
to  show,  as  I  proposed  in  the  first  paragraph  of  this 
present  Number,  HOW  THERE  CAME  TO  BE 
SO  MUCH  POVERTY  AND  MISERY  IN  ENG- 
LAND ;  for,  this  is  the  main  thing,  it  being  clear, 
that,  if  we  do  not  see  the  real  causes  of  our  misery, 
we  shall  be  very  unlikely  to  adopt  any  effectual  reme- 
dy. But,  before  I  enter  on  this  part  of  my  subject, 
let  me  prove,  beyond  all  possibility  of  doubt,  that  what 
I  say  relatively  to  the  situation  of,  and  the  allowances 
to,  the  labourers  and  their  families,  IS  TRUE.  The 
cause  of  such  situation  and  allowances  I  shall  show 
hereafter;  but  let  me  first  show,  by  a  reference  to  in- 
dubitable facts,  that  the  situation  and  allowances  are 
such  as,  or  worse  than,  I  have  described  them .  To 
do  this,  no  way  seems  to  me  to  be  so  fair,  so  likely  to 
be  free  from  error,  so  likely  to  produce  a  suitable  im- 


III.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.  61 

pression  on  the  minds  of  my  readers,  and  so  likely 
to  lead  to  some  useful  practical  result;  no  way  seems 
to  me  so  well  calculated  to  answer  these  purposes,  as 
that  of  taking  the  very  milage,  in  which,  I,  at  this 
moment,  happen  to  be,  and  to  describe,  with  names 
and  dates,  the  actual  state  of  its  labouring  people,  as 
far  as  that  state  is  connected  with  steps  taken  under 
the  poor-laws. 

j  65.  This  village  was  in  former  times  a  very  con- 
siderable place,  as  is  manifest  from  the  size  of  the 
church  as  well  as  from  various  other  circumstances.  It 
is  now,  as  a  church  living-,  united  with  an  adjoining 
parish,  called  VERNON  DEAN,  which  also  has  its  church, 
at  a  distance  of  about  three  miles  from  the  church  of 
this  parish.  Both  parishes,  put  together  now  contain 
only  eleven  hundred,  and  a  few  odd,  inhabitants,  men, 
women,  children,  and  all;  and  yet,  the  great  tithes 
are  supposed  to  be  worth  two  or  three  thousand  pounds 
a  year,  and  the  small  tithes  about  six  hundred  pounds 
a  year.  Formerly,  before  the  event  which  is  called 
"  THE  REFORMATION,"  there  were  two  Roman  Catho- 
lic priests  living  at  the  parsonage  houses  in  these  two 
parishes.  They  could  not  marry,  and  could,  therefore 
have  no  wives  and  families  to  keep  out  of  the  tithes; 
and,  WITH  PART  OF  THOSE  TITHES, 
THEY,  AS  THE  LAW  PROVIDED,  MAIN- 
TAINED THE  POOR  OF  THESE  TWO  PA- 
RISHES ;  and,  the  canons  of  the  church  commanded 
them  to  distribute  the  portion  to  the  poor  and  the  stran- 
ger, "  with  their  own  hands,  in  humility  and  mercy" 
66.  This,  as  to  church  and  poor,  was  the  state  of 
these  villages,  in  the  "dark  ages"  of  "  Romish 
superstition"  W^hat !  No  poor-laws ?  No  poor- 
rates?  What  horribly  unenlightened  limes!  No  se- 
lect vestries  ?  Dark  ages  indeed !  But,  how  stands 
these  matters  now?  Why,  the  two  parishes  are 
moulded  into  one  church  living.  Then  the  GREAT 
TITHES  (amounting  to  two  or  three  thousand  a  year) 
belong  to  some  part  of  the  Chapter  (as  they  call  it) 
of  Salisbury.  The  Chapter  leases  them  out,  as  they 
would  a  house  or  a  farm,  and  they  are  now  rented  by 


62  COBBETT'S  [No. 

JOHN  KING,  who  is  one  oi  this  happy  nation's  greatest 
and  oldest  pensioners.  So  that,  away  go  the  great 
tithes,  not  leaving  a  single  wheat-ear  to  be  spent  in 
the  parish.  The  SMALL  TITHES  belong  to  a  VICAR, 
who  is  one  FISHER,  a  nephew  of  the  late  bishop  of 
Salisbury,  who  has  not  resided  here  for  a  long  while  ; 
and  who  has  a  curate,  named  JOHN  GALE,  who  being 
the  son  of  a  little  farmer  and  shop-keeper  at  BURBAGE 
in  Wiltshire,  was,  by  a  parson  of  the  name  of  BAI- 
LEY (very  well  known  and  remembered  in  these  parts), 
put  to  school ;  and,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  became  a 
curate.  So  that,  away  go  also  the  small  tithes 
(amounting  to  about  500Z.  or  600/.  a  year);  and,  out  of 
the  large  church  revenues;  or,  rather,  large  church- 
and-poor  revenues,  of  these  two  parishes ;  out  of  the 
whole  of  them,  there  remains  only  the  amount  of  the 
curate,  Mr.  JOHN  GALE'S,  salary,  which  does  not. 
perhaps,  exceed  seventy  OF  a  hundred  pounds,  and  a 
part  of  which,  at  any  rate,  I  dare  say,  he  does  not  ex- 
pend in  these  parishes :  away  goes,  I  say,  all  the  rest 
of  the  small  tithes,  leaving  not  so  much  as  a  mess  of 
milk  or  a  dozen  of  eggs,  much  less  a  tithe-pig,  to  be 
consumed  in  the  parish. 

67.  As  to  the  poor,  the  parishes  continue  to  be  in 
two  ;  so  that  I  am  to  be  considered  as  speaking  of  the 
parish  of  UPHCSBAND  only.  You  are  aware,  that, 
amongst  the  last  of  the  acts  of  the  famous  JCBILEE- 
REIGN,  was  an  act  to  enable  parishes  to  establish 
SELECT  VESTRIES;  and  one  of  these  vestries 
now  exists  in  this  parish.  And  now,  let  me  explain 
to  you  the  nature  and  tendency  of  this  Jubilee-Act. 
Before  this  Act  was  passed,  overseers  of  the  poor  had 
full  authority  to  grant  relief  at  their  discretion. 
Pray  mark  that.  Then  again,. before  this  Act  was 
passed,  any  one  justice  of  the  peace  might,  on  com- 
plaint of  any  poor  person,  order  relief.  Mark  that. 
A  select  vestry  is  to  consist  of  the  most  considerable 
rate-payers.  Mark  that.  Then,  mark  these  things: 
this  Jubilee-Act/orfr/as  the  overseer  to  grant  any  re- 
lief other  than  such  as  shall  be  ordered  by  the  select 
vestry:  it  forbids  QKJ&  justice  to  order  relief,  in  any 


III.]  POOR   MAN'S   FRIEND.  63 

case,  except  in  a  case  of  emergency:  it  forbids 
MORE  THAN  ONE  to  order  relief,  except  on  oath 
that  the  complainant  has  applied  to  the  select  vestry 
(where  there  is  one,)  and  has  been  refused  relief  by 
it ;  and  that,  in  no  case,  the  justice's  order  shall  be 
for  more  than  a  month;  and,  moreover,  that  when  a 
poor  person  shall  appeal  to  justices  from  a  select  ves- 
try, the  justices,  in  ordering  relief,  or  refusing,  shall 
have  "regard  to  the  conduct  and  CHARACTER 
of  the  applicant  /" 

68.  From  this  Act,  one  would  imagine,  that  over- 
seers and  justices  were  looked  upon  as  bein?  too  soft 
and  yielding'  a  nature  ;  too  good,  too  charitable,  too 
liberal  to  the  poor !     In  order  that  the  select  vestry 
may  have  an  agent  suited  to  the  purposes  that  the  Act 
manifestly  has  in  view,  the  Act  authorizes  the  select 
vestry  to  appoint  what  is  called  an  "assistant  over- 
seer," and  to  give  him  a  salary  out  of  the  poor-rates. 
Such  is  this  Jubilee-Act,  one  of  the  last  Acts  of  the 
Jubilee-reign,  that  reign,   which  gave   birth  to  the 
American  war,  to  Pitt,  to  Perceval,  Ellenborough, 
Sidmouth.  and  Castlereagh,  to  a  thousand  millions  of 
taxes  and  another  thousand  millions  of  debt:  such  is 
the  Select  Vestry  Act ;   and  this  now  little  trifling 
village  of  UPHDSBAND  has  a  Select-  Vestry  !  Aye,  and 
an  "  ASSISTANT  OVERSEER,"  too,  with  a  salary  of 
FIFTY  POUNDS  A  YEAR,  being,  as  you  will 
presently  see.  about  a  SEVENTH  PART  OF  THE 
WHOLE  OF  THE  EXPENDITURE  ON  THE 
POOR! 

69.  The  Overseers  make  out  and  cause  to  be  print- 
ed and  published,  at  the  end  of  every  four  weeks,  an 
account  of  the  disbursements.     I  have  one  of  these 
accounts  now  before  me ;  and  I  insert  it  here,  word 
for  word,  as  follows  : — 

70.  "  the  disbursements  of  Mr.  T.  Child  and  Mr. 
C.  Church,  bread  at  Is.  2d.  per  gallon.      Sept.  25th, 
1826. 

-' 


64  COBBETT'S  [No. 

WIDOWS. 

£    s.   d.  £.    s.  d. 

Blake,  Ann 080 

Bray,  Mary 080 

Cook,  Ann 076 

Clark,  Mary 0  10    0 

Gilbert,  Hannah 080 

Marshall,  Sarah 0  10    0 

Smith,  Mary 080 

Westrip,  Jane 080 

Withers,  Ann 080 

Dance,  Susan    ------080 

:    436 

BASTARDS. 

— 070 

060 

0    7    0 

--.____  o    6    0 

2  children  -   -     -     -     0  12     0 

2  children   -    -    -    -  0  12    0 

0  10    0 

080 

060 

080 

080 

060 

060 

- 060 

580 

OLD  MEN. 

Blake,  John 0  16    0 

Cannon,  John 0140 

Cummins,  Peter    -----0160 

Hopgood,  John 0  16    0 

Holdqn,  William 060 

Marshall,  Charles 0  16    0 

Nutley,  George 070 

4    11    0 

FAMILIES. 

Bowley,  Mary 040 

Baverstock,  Elizabeth,  2  children  094 
Cook,  Levi    -    -    -    5  children  054 


]                     POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND.                         I 
FAMILIES. 

£ 

I 

d.   £.  s.   d. 

Kingston,  John    -    -  6  ditto    - 

0 

10 

0 

Knight,  John  -  -    -    6  ditto  -  - 

0 

10 

0 

Newman,  David  -     -  5  ditto    - 

0 

5 

4 

Pain,  Robert  -  -    -     5  ditto  -  - 

0 

5 

4 

Synea,  William   -     -  6  ditto     - 

0 

10 

0 

Smith,  Sarah  (Moses)  1  ditto  -  - 

0 

4 

8 

Studman,  Sarah      -     2  ditto     - 

0 

9 

4 

White,  Joseph  -  -     -  8  ditto  -   - 

0 

19 

4 

Wise,  William  -    -     6  ditto    - 

0 

10 

0 

Waldren,  Job  -    -     -  5  ditto  -   - 

0 

5 

4 

Noyce,  M.  Batt,  7  do.  6  weeks'  pay  1 

2 

0 
r,  in    n 

65 


EXTRA  IN  THIS  MONTH. 

Thomas  Farmer,  ill  3  days  -  -  0  4  0 
Levi  Cook,  ill  4  weeks  and  1  day  1  13  4 
Joseph  White's  child,  6  weeks  -  0  7  0 
Jane  Westrip's  rent  -  -  -  -  0  2  0 
William  Fisher,  1  month  ill  -  -  1  12  0 
Paid  boy,  2  days  ill  -----  0  0  8 
James  Orchard,  ill  .....  1  02 
James  Orchard's  daughter,  ill  -  0  8  0 
Adders  and  Sparrows  ----023} 
Wicks  for  Carriage  ----010 
Paid  Mary  Hinton  .....  040 
Joseph  Farmer,  ill  3  days  -  -  0  2  9 
Thomas  Cummins  -----060 
Samuel  Day,  and  son.  ill  -  -  0  8  2 

-  6  11    4 


Total  amount  for  the  4  weeks    -    -    27    3 


71.  Under  the  head  of  "Wmows"  are,  generally, 
old  women  wholly  unable  to  work;  and  that  of  "OLD 
MEN"  are  men  past  all  labour:  in  some  of  the  instan- 
ces lodging  places,  in  very  poor  and  wretched  houses, 
are  found  these  old  people,  and,  in  other  instances, 
they  have  the  bare  money  ;  and,  observe,  that  money 
is  FOR  FOUR  WEEKS  !  Gracious  God!  Have 
we  had  no  mothers  ourselves !  Were  we  not  born 


66  COBBETT'S  [No. 

of  woman !  Shall  we  not  feel  then  for  the  poor 
widow  who,  in  her  old  age,  is  doomed  to  exist  on 
two  shillings  a  week,  or  threepence  halfpenny  a  day, 
and  to  find  herself  clothes  and  washing  and  fuel  and 
bedding  out  of  that !  And,  the  poor  old  men,  the  very 
happiest  of  whom  gets,  you  see,  less  than  7d.  a  day, 
at  the  end  of  70  or  80  years  of  a  life,  all  but  six  of 
which  have  been  years  of  labour !  I  have  thought  it 
right  to  put  blanks  instead  of  the  names,  under  the 
second  head.  Men  of  less  rigid  morality,  and  less 
free  from  all  illicit  intercourse,  than  the  members  of 
the  Select  Vestry  of  Uphusband,  would,  instead  of 
the  word  bastard,"  have  used  the  more  amiable  one 
of  "love-child;"  and,  it  may  not  be  wholly  improper 
to  ask  these  rigid  moralists,  whether  they  be  aware, 
that  they  are  guilty  of  LIBEL,  aye,  of  real  criminal 
libel,  in  causing  these  poor  girls'  names  to  be  printed 
and  published  in  this  way.  Let  them  remember,  that 
the  greater  the  truth  the  greater  the  libel ;  and,  let 
them  remember,  that  the  mothers  and  the  children 
too,  may  have  memories!  But,  it  is  under  the  head 
of  c- FAMILIES"  that  we  see  that  which  is  most 
worthy  of  our  attention.  Observe,  t\\&i.  eight  shil- 
lings a  week  is  the  wages  for  a  day  labourer  in  the  vil- 
lage. And,  you  see,  it  is  only  when  there  are  more 
than  four  children  that  the  family  is  allowed  any- 
thing at  all.  "  LEVI  COOK,"  for  instance,  has  five 
children,  and  he  receives  allowance  for  one  child. 
"JOSEPH  WHITE"  has  eight  children,  and  he  receives 
allowance  for  four.  There  are  three  widows  undei 
this  head ;  but,  it  is  where  there  is  a  man,  the  father 
of  the  family,  that  we  ought  to  look  with  attention ; 
and  here  we  find,  that  nothing  at  all  is  allowed  to  a 
family  of  a  man,  a  wife,  and  four  children,  beyond 
the  bare  eight  shillings  a  week  of  wages ;  and  this 
is  even  worse  than  the  allowance  which  I  contrasted 
with  that  of  the  hospital  patients  and  convicted  fe- 
lons ;  for  there  I  supposed  the  family  to  consist  of  a 
man,  his  wife  and  three  children.  If  I  am  told,  that 
the  farmers,  that  the  occupiers  of  houses  and  land, 
are  so  poor  that  they  cannot  do  more  for  their  wretched 


III.]  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND,  67 

work-people  arid  neighbours ;  then  I  answer  and  say, 
What  a  selfish,  what  a  dastardly  wretch  is  he,  who 
is  not  ready  to  do  all  he  can  to  change  this  disgrace- 
ful, this  horrible  state  of  things  ! 

72.  But,  at  any  rate,  is  the  salary  of  the  "  ASSIST- 
ANT OVERSEER"  necessary  ?  Cannot  that  be  dispen- 
sed with  ?  Must  he  have  as  much  as  all  the  widows, 
or  all  the  old  men  ?  And  his  salary,  together  with 
the  charge  for  printing'  and  other  his  various  expen- 
ses, will  come  to  a  great  deal  more  than  go  to  all  the 
widows  and  old  men  too!  Why  not,  then,  do  without 
him,  and  double  the  allowance  to  these  poor  old  wo- 
men, or  poor  old  men,  who  have  spent  tneir  strength 
in  raising  crops  in  the  parish  ?  I  went  to  see  with 
my  own  eyes  some  of  the  "parish  houses,"  as  they 
are  called ;  that  is  to  say,  the  places  where  the  select 
vestry  put  the  poor  people  into  to  live.  Never  did  my 
eyes  before  alight  on  such  scenes  of  wretchedness  ! 
There  was  one  place,  about  18  feet  long  and  10  wide, 
in  which  I  found  the  wife  of  ISAAC  HOLDEN,  which, 
when  all  were  at  home,  had  to  contain  nineteen  per- 
sons ;  and  into  which,  I  solemnly  declare,  I  would  not 
put  19  pigs,  even  if  well-bedded  with  straw.  Another 
place  was  shown  me  by  JOB  WALDRON'S  daughter ; 
another  by  Thomas  Carey's  wife.  The  bare  ground, 
and  that  in  holes  too,  was  the  floor  in  both  these  places. 
The  windows  broken,  and  the  holes  stuffed  with  rags, 
or  covered  with  rotten  bits  of  board.  Great  openings 
in  the  walls,  parts  of  which  were  fallen  down,  and 
the  places  stopped  with  hurdles  and  straw.  The 
thatch  rotten,  the  chimneys  leaning,  the  doors  but  bits 
of  doors,  the  sleeping  holes  shocking  both  to  sight  and 
smell ;  and,  indeed,  every-thing  seeming  to  say : 
"  These  are  the  abodes  of  wretchedness,  which,  to  be 
believed  possible,  must  be  seen  and  felt:  these  are 
the  abodes  of  the  descendants  of  those  amongst  whom 
beef,  pork,  mutton  and.  veal  were  the  food  of  the  poorer 
sort ;  to  this  are  come,  at  last,  the  "descendants  of 
those  common  people  of  England,  who,  FORTESCUE 
tells  us,  were  clothed  throughout  in  good  woollens, 
whose  bedding,  and  other  furniture  in  their  houses, 


68  COBBETT'S  POOR  MAN'S  FRIEND. 

were  of  wool,  and  that  in  great  store,  and  who  were 
well  provided  with  all  sorts  of  household  goods,  every 
one  having  all  things  that  conduce  to  make  life  easy 
and  happy !" 

73.  I  have  now,  my  friends  of  Preston,  amply  pro- 
ved, that  what  I  have  stated  relative  to  the  present 
state  of,  and  allowances  to,  the  labourers  is  TRUE. 
And  now  we  are  to  do  all  we  can  to  remove  the  evil ; 
for,  removed  the  evil  must  be,  or  England  must  be 
sunk  for  ages;  and,  never  will  the  evil  be  removed, 
until  its  causes,  remote  as  well  as  near,  be  all  clearly 
ascertained.  With  my  best  wishes  for  the  health  and 
happiness  of  you  all, 

I  remain, 

Your  faithful  friend,  and  most  obedient  servant, 

WM.    COBBETT. 


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